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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24949951">darling, this is a prison of our own making</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DullahanShadow/pseuds/HunkyDory'>HunkyDory (DullahanShadow)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Altean Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Canon, Bottom Lance (Voltron), Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Post-Fall of Altea, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Slavery, Slow Burn, Soldier Lance (Voltron), Top Lotor (Voltron), concubine Lance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:53:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>29,985</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24949951</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DullahanShadow/pseuds/HunkyDory</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance had thought his days were numbered, each passing moment trapped in the arena for the entertainment of the Galra as his brothers and sisters-in-arms fought for a future that was no longer theirs. His planet had perished. His people were dying. </p><p>And he was just a soldier. What could he do to help them? </p><p>He couldn't have predicted his way out would be at the hands of Prince Lotor. Or what he'd be willing to sacrifice for him.</p><p>(discontinued)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lance (Voltron)/Original Galran Character(s), Lance/Lotor (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>70</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>193</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Lotor Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Part 1 (I)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lance grunts as he's slammed to the ground by his opponent. A Lymian about twice his size hovers above him, panting and doing a valiant job of ignoring the wound on its tail, courtesy of Lance's sword.</p><p>In a different time and place, Lance would've liked nothing better than to escort this Lymian to a pod and help him heal his injuries. But after the first few mistakes he'd made in his first battles in the arena, Lance quickly learned that if he wanted to live to see another day, he can't think like that.</p><p>That doesn’t stop him from puking his guts out in his cell after every duel, though. This wasn't the noble fighting he'd been trained for. He isn’t protecting anyone aside from himself when he kills his opponents.</p><p>They are all innocent deaths, meaningless deaths, and if Lance was truly a brave Altean warrior he'd put an end to his part in the bloodshed and allow the Lymian this victory.</p><p>But he isn’t brave. He’s a coward.</p><p>Spitting out the blood in his mouth, Lance rolls away from the Lymian's sword and raises his legs, kicking it in the stomach. The split moment of pain is enough to allow Lance to stand up and stick his blade in the Lymian's throat. He doesn't flinch at the spray of red that hits his face. He doesn't hear the crowd's roar.</p><p>All he can think about is that he'd done it. Again.</p><p> </p><p>.x.</p><p> </p><p>Lance doesn’t know at first what to make of the Galra guards opening the door to his cell in the middle of the night. It wasn't time to be collected for his act in the arena. He'd only just washed the blood of the fallen Lymian fighter off his face.</p><p>The guards won’t say a word as they cuff and roughly drag him out of his cell, out of the prison quarters and up a corridor Lance has never walked through before. This wasn't the way to the arena, at least of that he can be certain.</p><p>Is this it? Is he to be executed? That doesn’t sound like something the Galra would do. They love a good show. Why would they kill him in the dark, without an audience to cheer and gloat?</p><p>Apprehension curls in Lance's gut as he’s led up an elaborate set of stairs. He feels sorely out of place in his soiled prisoner's garb. The fancier the halls become, the more Lance is forced to consider that perhaps he isn't walking towards his death.</p><p>No. If his suspicions are correct, he’s in for something far worse.</p><p>The guards stop in front of a large door panel and wait for it to slide open before shoving Lance inside. Lance stumbles and grunts as he’s pushed down to his knees.</p><p>"The Altean prisoner you requested, Prince Lotor," one of the guards says gruffly and salutes the man approaching them. Lance's breath catches in his throat and he keeps his eyes resolutely downcast.</p><p>He doesn't want to look at the Galra who undoubtedly wanted to humiliate him.</p><p>"You are dismissed,” the prince says coolly and waits for the doors to slide closed before addressing Lance.</p><p>"Lift your head," he commands. "What is your name?"</p><p>Lance doesn’t move. He doesn’t see why he should make this easy for this Galra, prince or not.</p><p>"Come now, don't test my patience,” the prince breaks the silence with an unspoken threat between them.</p><p>Begrudgingly, Lance presses his lips into a thin line and raises his head, more to sate his own curiosity than to obey the prince's order. His eyes widen a fraction once he gets a good look at his captor.</p><p>This Galra... Doesn’t look very Galra at all. Sure, he shared a few features with his people, such as his skin tone and eye color, but that was where the resemblance ended. The prince is smaller than the average Galra, though he probably had a head over Lance. His ears, hair and sharp features all bore a striking resemblance to Altean royalty, much to Lance’s chagrin.</p><p>The guards had addressed this Galra as 'prince'. That must make him the son of Zarkon. Lance's blood runs cold at the thought. He's heard rumors that Zarkon had taken an Altean woman as a wife. Perhaps there was some truth to it.</p><p>Altean blood or not, Lance doesn’t want to be in the presence of Zarkon's flesh and blood.</p><p>"What does it matter?" He spits, meeting the prince's eyes with an icy glare. "I'm the Empire's property. I don't have a name."</p><p>Lance’s eyes warily follow the prince’s movements as he steps forward. He flinches and yanks his head back as the prince reaches forward- a reflex he’d picked up from the arena. His eyes shut tight as he feels the prince's long fingers wrap around his chin. He half expects the prince to yank it or dig his nails into his skin, but all the prince does is tighten his grip.</p><p>Lance doesn't remember the last time someone touched him without the intent of injuring him.</p><p>"No, you are no longer the Empire's property," the prince informs him. "By decree of the Emperor, your ownership has been transferred. Now, tell me your name," he commands firmly.</p><p>Lance’s eyes meet the prince's and he purses his lips. So he now belongs to him. From his experience in the cells, there were only two reasons Galra claimed Altean prisoners- either to personally gain profit from their victorious fights, or to bed them.</p><p>The former didn't involve midnight trips to the owner’s bedroom.</p><p>"...Lance," he finally answers. There were undoubtedly other things he’d need to save his strength and will to resist that night.</p><p>The prince slowly lowers himself to Lance’s eye-level without releasing his grip on Lance’s chin.</p><p>"Thank you,” he says softly, not unkindly. Slowly, he lowers his hand and rests them on the cuffs on Lance’s wrist.</p><p>"If I release you from these, I would appreciate it if you did not attack me until after you've heard my proposition,” the prince says pleasantly, tapping the cool metal. “Does that seem fair, Lance? Can I trust your restraint?"</p><p>Lance decidedly does not trust this Galran Prince with Altean features. How can he? He's the son of Zarkon, yet he thanks him and offers to unlock his cuffs. There must be some kind of catch. Some trick. Show the Altean captive a little kindness, only to turn on him and laugh at how gullible he'd been to latch onto a sliver of hope.</p><p>Though he has no weapon, Lance isn't above using his own hands. He could easily fit them around the prince's slender throat. He'll most likely be killed in the process, by the prince or his guards, but it would be worth it. Lance would rather die while trying to rid the universe of Zarkon's blood than subject himself to his son's whims.</p><p>He'll die trying to avenge the deaths of his people. Of his family.</p><p>So Lance raises his gaze and nods- a quick, solemn movement.</p><p>That must’ve been enough for the prince, as he nods back and presses his finger along the curve of the cuff. Lance watches as the prince presses down on a particular spot for a few short ticks before the mechanism unlatches and releases Lance from his bonds. Once the cuffs fall to the floor, the prince straightens and looks down at Lance’s kneeling form.</p><p>"Stand," he orders. “We have much to discuss."</p><p>Lance carefully climbs to his feet, poised and alert. He hasn't been allowed to sleep for well over a quintant, but the adrenaline in his bloodstream keeps his heart beating fast and strong. If these are to be his last ticks of life, Lance is glad that he’s able to feel so... Alive.</p><p>The prince points to a small ornate table situated against the wall and laden with confectionaries.</p><p>“Help yourself to these, I'm certain the prison guards did not supply much in ways of a proper meal,” the prince muses as he walks over to the table and sits, staring expectantly at Lance to do the same.</p><p>"You have nothing to fear while we discuss these matters. I wish you no ill-will,” he says for Lance’s benefit and pops a pastry into his mouth.</p><p>Lance glances at the offered sweets, tempted to roll his eyes, but refrains from doing so. Hunger has become a dull ache in his stomach, always present but easily forgotten in favor of more pressing issues. The Galra have been feeding him just enough to get by- never to be full. If the prince thought he could deceive Lance with sugar, he was mistaken.</p><p>Sweetmeats and sweet words aren’t going to dissuade Lance from his mission.</p><p>Flexing his fingers, Lance makes to sit in the offered seat before darting forward in the prince's direction with all the speed he can muster. His blood pounds in his ears as he grabs a knife from the table with one hand, the prince with another, yanking him from his chair and pushing him down onto the floor, straddling him in a tick. He wastes no time raising his arm and aiming the knife at the prince’s throat.</p><p>But even so, he hadn’t been fast enough.</p><p>Lance doesn't see the taser- he feels a cold, metallic object pressed against his neck and before he can move to escape it, it hits him with an electric current. Crying out his pain, Lance struggles to catch his breath as he's roughly pushed off the prince.</p><p>This is it. He'd gotten his chance, and he'd failed. For a moment, Lance thought he’d actually make a difference. Ah, well. It was time to face the consequences like a true warrior of Altea.</p><p>"I asked for some patience, and you couldn't even give me that,” the prince says irritably, looking down at Lance with disappointment. “My father would have your head for your insolence,” he says with a sigh, “but I’m not him.”</p><p>Instead of a blade through his chest or a gun to his head, the only thing the prince thrusts in Lance’s direction is his hand.</p><p>"...what's wrong with you?" Lance rasps, looking up at the prince's extended hand with disapproval. "I just tried to kill you. I don’t guarantee that I won't try again. Why aren't you calling your guards?"</p><p>The prince offers him crooked smile as he takes hold of Lance's hand and pulls him up to his feet.</p><p>"Because I can handle my own affairs. I do not need guards to interfere,” he keeps a firm grip on Lance's hand. “Now sit,” he commands with a hint of frustration in his voice.</p><p>"And Lance," he adds silkily, "as you may have noted, I am fully capable of thwarting any of your..." he breaths out a laugh, "attacks." He releases Lance's hand and nods to the chair. "Now, as I was saying, there is much to discuss."</p><p>Lance narrows his eyes at the prince's words. Is he insinuating that Lance is anything but a capable warrior? Had he not proven himself in the arena?</p><p>Lance is severely tempted to attack again, just to prove himself, but he can feel the adrenaline quickly fading from his system. Lance can feel the fatigue in his bones. Sitting down wouldn't be all that bad, would it? It wouldn’t mean that he’d given up. There was nothing wrong with regaining one’s strength.</p><p>He takes the offered seat with caution, looking up at the prince with distaste once they're both settled.</p><p>"Well? What is it you're so desperate to talk about with me?"</p><p>The prince shakes his head.</p><p>"I would watch that tone, if I were you. I can just as easily throw you back into the arena if I so please,” he says evenly. "I have called you here for an opportunity you won't get anywhere else."</p><p>He pauses for a moment, meeting Lance’s eyes, before carrying on.</p><p>“While you are undoubtedly a skilled fighter, what waits for you in your next arena fight is not one you will survive. I have graciously prevented that outcome."</p><p>Lance blinks. He opens his mouth to protest, to insist that he can protect himself from whatever the Galra throw at him in the arena, but the prince cuts him off.</p><p>"I require eyes and ears everywhere I go, Lance. There is nowhere safe on this ship, especially around my father, and I need people I can trust. For all purposes, you have failed in that latter regard, but I'm willing to give you this second chance. Do not waste it.”</p><p>The prince gives Lance a cold look.</p><p>“Do you understand, Lance? This offer will not be given twice. I do not want to waste either of our time."</p><p>Lance frowns. He doesn't remember the last time someone said so many words to him that weren't commands or battle cries, and as strange as it was, he rather likes it. It makes him feel more like a person, and less like an animal to be used and abused for another's entertainment.</p><p>And yet, the prince's words aren't exactly what he wants to hear, either.</p><p>"Why would you need someone to spy for you? Aren't you Zarkon's son?"</p><p>It was all just so confusing, and Lance lacked his usual capacities to puzzle it out. He's tired. Hungry. And yes- despite his readiness to sacrifice himself for a greater cause, he's a little scared.</p><p>"Listen, I don't- I don't really get what you want from me. If there isn't anything else, I'd prefer to spend my remaining time resting in my cell before my supposedly final match."</p><p>The prince sighs. "Before you jump headfirst into what will be inevitably be you and your species downfall, listen to what I have to say."</p><p>He pushes one of the trays forward, offering it to Lance with a quirk of his lips.</p><p>“While I am Zarkon's son, this hasn't afforded me any safety- nor much in a ways of freedom. At least by a standard for Galran royalty. And as for what awaits you in the arena… My father likes to be a bit of a braggart. He's publicly dictated what his plans are for the remainder of your species, and it's..."</p><p>The prince trails off and shakes his head.</p><p>"Suffice to say, I do not wish for you to be among them. In the arena, you showed your cleverness and skills, including the ability to think on your feet. I admire that, and require it."</p><p>The prince returns his hands to his lap.</p><p>“There is much I want to accomplish, and I can't do that with my father distrusting every thought and move I make. I must follow the status quo,” he brushes a lock of hair behind his ear, “at least in appearance."</p><p>Lance sits quietly, for once. He doesn't try to nit-pick the prince's words and search for the ulterior motive he must have. Instead, Lance decides to listen to what he has to say.</p><p>Because although the words are practiced, thought out and refined, there's something about the prince's body language that screams his discomfort. There's a nervous energy in his fiddling with his hands and hair that reminds Lance of his older brother Marco. He'd always tried to put on a strong front for his family, for their mama, but his hands always betrayed what he felt inside.</p><p>Lance takes a deep breath at the sharp twinge of pain that comes with the memory. He's been trying to so hard not to think about his family when he knows that every quintant can be his last and that he won't get to see their faces or hear their voices ever again. That once he's gone, they'll all be forgotten forever. Like they've never existed.</p><p>But maybe that doesn't have to be the case. Maybe this is his chance to carry their memory for longer than that.</p><p>So he listens. He still isn't sure he entirely understands the prince's situation, but Lance has heard enough to determine that he needed Lance’s help. And if his being useful is what will keep him out of the arena, then Lance decides to be just that.</p><p>Carefully, Lance nods and reaches out to take a familiar sweet from the offered tray. A wave of nostalgia washes over him as he takes a bite. He hasn't had one of these since his childhood. How had a Galra prince obtained such a pastry?</p><p>"I see," he says simply, meeting the prince's gaze. "If you wish for me to be your eyes and ears, I can do that. However," Lance tilts his head, "I'm uncertain how much I'd have to report. No Galra would discuss sensitive information with an Altean in the room."</p><p>The prince chuckles.</p><p>"Ah, well," he clears his throat, "that is where things become a touch complicated. As I stated," he continues, "my father has certain expectations that I must uphold. One of which will be served with your presence. I am asking for you to serve as my concubine," he concludes before quickly adding, "but only in appearance."</p><p>He offers a smile to Lance and taps the table idly. “My father doesn't need to know that, of course."</p><p>Lance blinks.</p><p>"I'm sorry, serve as what?"</p><p>He should've known. He'd figured it out from the start, hadn't he? Guessed at the reason why he'd been brought up to a prince's rooms? But he'd lowered his guard around this one, had allowed his judgement to be clouded by his fancy words.</p><p>No more.</p><p>"You're asking me to humiliate myself and my people by agreeing to pose as your sex slave?" Lance snaps, his anger and shame coloring his cheeks. He stands up. "I'd rather die in the arena than allow any Galra to think that I've submitted to you!"</p><p>The prince flinches and with a sigh, he reaches out and clasps Lance’s hand.</p><p>“What I ask of you is by no means fair. It’s not meant to be. Your species is in danger of going extinct and your culture will be wiped clean from history- I am trying to preserve what aspects I can, but with what my father has in store, that is fading with every tick.”</p><p>He looks at Lance with an almost pleading expression.</p><p>“I implore you to just think it over. Whatever you choose,” he pulls his hand back, “I will respect, but-“ he grits his teeth, frustration evident on his face. “Just please take some time to consider it.”</p><p>Lance bites his lip. How can he ever feel comfortable in the presence of a Galra who observed him in the arena and decided that he'd make a good pet, fake or not? What about him could've possibly come off as weak? Submissive?</p><p>Lance isn't aware of his appearance. His sisters never failed to tease him over how they owned the same skin products and shared their cosmetics. Lance was a soldier- one of the best on his team. But that didn't mean that he couldn't take care of himself. That he couldn't be attractive.</p><p>And he is. But it was one thing to be courted and admired. It was another to be asked to play out a sick, twisted fantasy. Today he'd agree to spy for this Galra while wearing his collar, tomorrow he'd find himself in his bed. Lance knows how quickly these things escalate. He's seen it with his own eyes.</p><p>But here he is, forced to choose between total humiliation and certain death. What kind of choice is that?</p><p>"I..."</p><p>Lance's hands curls into fists at his sides and he looks away. He knows what words he has to say, but he's ashamed of them. Nevertheless, he cannot allow his pride to get in the way of his and his people’s survival.</p><p>"Fine. I'll do it. For Altea."</p><p>A smile fills the prince’s face, honest and real.</p><p>"Thank you," he bows his head a touch. "While in my charge, you're under my full protection. No one would dare touch you,” he informs. "I understand that what I ask is no easy task, and I wish to make it as bearable for you as I can when we are in public. I have vested interest in keeping you safe. And content,” he adds.</p><p>Lance has his doubts about the prince's ability to supposedly protect him, but he holds his tongue and simply nods, allowing the prince to continue, uninterrupted.</p><p>"When you aren't appearing as my concubine, however, you will be a part of my guard. The trust we need to excel must be built on both sides, I understand this, and we will further discuss what this entails.”</p><p>The prince folds his hands in his lap.</p><p>“For now, however, I believe you've earned yourself some rest," he nods in the direction of the large canopy bed in the middle of the room.</p><p>"You are welcome to the bed, I will be in my study while you rest," he offers. "I'm sorry I have yet to prepare a proper living arrangement for you, but it will come in time."</p><p>Sleep is just what Lance needs, and at this point, he would’ve been grateful had the prince offered him his rug. He hadn't expected to be offered the bed. When was the last time he'd even been near one?</p><p>"This is fine," Lance says quickly, making his way to the bed and carefully sitting down on the mattress, hesitant to put his full weight on top of it. What if the prince suddenly realizes how dirty he is and decides to move him to the floor instead?</p><p>Lance wets his lips and bends down to take off his boots, his face warm as he takes in the filthy state of his uniform. He hadn't given it much thought until now, fully focused on his survival, but now...</p><p>His skin crawls at the layers of grime, sweat and blood.</p><p>The prince cautiously approaches him with a wane smile.</p><p>“If you would like, the washroom is just through that door. You can clean up, and I will provide a fresh set of clothes for you. But do not feel as though you have to." </p><p>Lance watches quietly as the prince raises his hand as if to touch him, before thinking better of it and lowering it back to his side. As if he actually cared if Lance wanted to be touched at that moment or not. And maybe... Maybe he did. Lance really can't figure this guy out. He's unlike any Galra he's had the dubious pleasure of meeting before, and he’s certainly not like an Altean. The prince was proving to be a strange mix of traits, neither here nor there, and Lance supposes it makes sense in a way.</p><p>The prince offers him a short bow. "I'll be in my study, should you need me."</p><p>Lance decides to take the prince up on his offer of washing up and stands, walking across the floor to the indicated washroom.</p><p>Never before had he so appreciated being clean. There were a bunch of lotions and soaps next to the tub with labels Lance couldn't read, but he used them anyway, simply enjoying the way they felt on his skin. By the time he wraps a towel around his hips and dries his hair, Lance is certain he smells like a flower bomb. And while that wasn't necessarily a positive thing, it was so much better than the stench of the arena that had clung to him before like a second skin.</p><p>Walking out the washroom, Lance looks around for something clean to wear but finds no outfit set out for him. Unwilling to be caught snooping, Lance heads into the prince's study to ask him for some. He finds the prince sitting at a desk, bent over a manuscript that looks suspiciously Altean.</p><p>"Hey, uh,” Lance clears his throat, suddenly realizing that he doesn't know how to address the prince. "What am I supposed to call you, by the way? You're the Prince, right?"</p><p>The prince looks up at Lance and nods. He brushes a hand through his hair, smudges of ink dying his sliver hair a light shade of blue.</p><p>“You may call me Lotor when I am the only company,” he allows. “I consider you to be my equal, Lance, despite these pretences. However, outside these doors, it will be best for you to call me by my royal status- ‘sire’, ‘Prince Lotor’, or any other notary names of my lineage.”</p><p>Lance nods. Lotor, huh. Well, if that's what the guy wanted, then that's what he was going to call him. He'd been worried for a moment that Lotor might want him to start referring to him as 'master' or some other title meant to degrade him, but 'prince' was fine. It was the truth, after all.</p><p>“Ah, let me fetch you something to wear,” Lotor stands and brushes past him without a cursory glance as he pulls out shirt and a pair of pants from a large closet. “This should be very comfortable, if a bit big. I will arrange a tailor to measure you for all future attire.”</p><p>Lance returns to the main room and slips into the nightshirt, discarding the matching pants after they keep sliding off his hips. Thankfully, the shirt was long enough to cover his thighs. Lotor had been speaking the truth- it was rather comfortable. The fabric was softer than anything Lance had ever worn before.</p><p>The bed calls out to him, but Lance turns around and walks over to Lotor instead, feeling an inexplicable urge to find out more about him. It was a long time since he'd had an actual conversation with someone, and Lance hadn't realized how much he'd missed it until now.</p><p>"So you can read Altean, huh?" Lance asks, hovering next to the desk and peering down at the manuscript. Not that it made any difference- it wasn't like he'd ever been taught how to read.</p><p>Lotor visibly starts before turning around to look at Lance with a confused expression. His eyes hover over Lance's bare thighs before quickly returning to his face.</p><p>"I can," he says as way of answer. "Though this text is rather difficult. It's ancient Altean, even some that's been lost to the Gods,” he says with a flourish of his writing utensil.</p><p>Lance wonders if he should be self-conscious about his state of dress, but quickly waves the thought away. He's a soldier, and the barracks hadn't been a place for modesty. Neither had his cell. If he is to play Lotor's concubine, Lance is certain that he'll be exposing a lot more flesh than this in the near future. The other Altean concubines' outfits that he'd seen left little to the imagination.</p><p>"Do you know much in the way of the Altean language?" Lotor finally asks, setting the manuscript down and sliding it closer to Lance. "It's quite alright if you don't, I’m just curious. I don't know much about Altean upbringing or practices, my father liked keeping much of it hidden from me."</p><p>Lance gazes at the text for a long moment, admiring the beautiful letters. Those were soon going to be lost too, along with the small number of Alteans who knew how to read it. Lance looks away.</p><p>"No," he says simply. "Reading is a skill for those with the time and resources to learn it. My family had neither."</p><p>Lotor silently nods and sets his pen down. He gives Lance a soft look, pitying, and it makes Lance want to squirm. Just because he doesn't know how to read doesn't make him any less valuable to society. His talents were needed elsewhere. On the battlefield. Lance's commanders didn't care if he could recognize a letter or not. What made him a good soldier was the fact that he'd been able to neutralize every one of his opponents.</p><p>Except for the Galra who captured him and, well, Lotor. But that had hardly been a fair fight.</p><p>"While my adeptness with ancient Altean is lacking, I am fluent in Altean,” Lotor speaks up. “Would you be interested in learning?" He nods to an armchair propped up in the corner of the room. "I- I may not have much in ways of freedom for myself, or for you. But while we're here, I can offer more."</p><p>Lance's eyes widen at Lotor's offer. Maybe he didn't have to know how to read to survive, but if he learned, he might be able to preserve his heritage in some small way. It was a cruel twist of fate that the one to offer to teach him Altean is Galra, but Lance won't hold himself back because of it.</p><p>"Really?" Lance asks, looking between Lotor and the text. "Yes. Yes, I would!"</p><p>Lotor looks up at Lance and offers him a small smile.</p><p>"Then we shall do that. But for now, I think it's imperative that you get some rest. The tailor will be here in eight vargas."</p><p>Giving the text one last longing look, Lance nods and turns around without another word. Lotor is right- sleep is exactly what he needs. Lance doesn't even bother muffling the sound of content he makes when he climbs back onto the bed and crawls beneath the covers. He wishes he could stay there forever.</p><p>All it takes is a few ticks for Lance to close his eyes and fall into the first deep sleep he’s had since the fall of Altea.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello, everyone! Thank you for reading the first chapter of what has been, to date, one of our favorite joint creations. This is our second published collaboration, and we hope you stay tuned and subscribe for weekly updates! If you'd like to read our previous collaborations, you can find them using the following link:</p><p>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622230</p><p>If you can spare a moment, please let us know your thoughts and impressions in the comments section below. Nothing makes us happier ;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Part 1 (II)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“It is time to get up, Lance."</p><p>Lance groans, turning on his side and pressing his face into the soft pillow. He'd been awake the moment Lotor’s hand touched his shoulder. It was the product of years of military training and his experience of captivity, where every extra tick you stayed on the floor was another kick to your back. Yet the very current temptation to curl up in the bed is stronger than it had been the first few nights of basic training.</p><p>He knows he’d slept longer than he has in a while, but Lance feels like he'd only been out for a varga at most. He'd been so happy in his dream.</p><p>Nevertheless, Lance knows he isn't in the position to ask for more time to sleep. His life at the moment is dependent on Lotor's good graces, and Lance isn't going to risk his displeasure for mere rest. He slowly drags himself up and out of the bed and glances up at Lotor with bleary eyes.</p><p>Maybe one day he'll get his beauty sleep.</p><p>He blinks rapidly, expelling the sleep from his eyes as he notices that Lotor looks just as tired as him. There are dark circles under his eyes that made in painfully obvious that Lotor hadn't slept a wink.</p><p>"You're exhausted," Lance states, giving Lotor a confused once-over. Same clothes as the night before. "Why didn't you sleep?"</p><p>Lotor blinks back at him, startled, and adjusts his tunic.</p><p>"It is none of your concern," he answers simply. "There are times when rest comes secondary to accomplishing the task at hand. Now,” Lotor raises his chin, “I have scheduled the tailor to arrive shortly. After your measurements are completed, we will eat our morning meal. Is there something you would like me to request for you?"</p><p>Lance frowns and instinctively tugs at his shirt, unsure of how much he wants to be prodded and measured, but he knows that it isn't up to him. He perks up at the mention of food, though.</p><p>"I don't know what you guys have, but I'm sure anything they're planning on serving you is better than what they gave me in prison, so I'm not picky," Lance promises.</p><p>Lotor nods.</p><p>"We can make whatever it is you desire- we have a highly qualified chef in our service. But if you have no special requests, I will have them prepare a standard Galran breakfast.”</p><p>Lance opens his mouth, intent on inquiring what exactly a Galran breakfast consists of, when he recognizes the strain of fatigue in Lotor’s voice. His excitement fades as he continues to study Lotor's tired face.</p><p>"Look, it's probably not my place to say this, but do you want to take a quick nap before the tailor arrives?" He meets Lotor's eyes. "My life is in your hands, and if you aren't at your best, that'll just make it easier for others to take me or return me to the arena. If I swear to protect and serve you, you need to take care of yourself, too."</p><p>Lotor huffs out a laugh and shakes his head.</p><p>"Your concern, while touching, is not what you should focus on. I will rest, in due time," he assures.  "For now, you must prepare for your fitting."</p><p>"...if you say so," Lance shrugs and walks towards the bathroom. "I guess I'll go get ready, then."</p><p>He doesn't take as long as he did the previous night. After relieving himself, Lance chooses to forgo a morning bath in favor of focusing on his face and hair. There are dozens of creams and ointments at his disposal, but Lance doesn’t recognize any of them. He refuses to apply anything to his hair and face without first knowing what they’re meant to do. He’ll have to ask Lotor.</p><p>Giving his reflection one last look, Lance walks back into the room, intent on dragging Lotor into the bathroom and demanding a proper tour. But before he can even open his mouth, he’s confronted with a team of Galran civilians, fussing with fabrics and measuring instruments in the middle of the room.</p><p>Lance freezes, immediately looking in Lotor's direction for guidance. They haven't yet gone over how he’s supposed to act in public.</p><p>“Altean,” Lotor says sharply as their eyes meet, “come here. Be quick about it.”</p><p>Lance lowers his eyes and quickly crosses the room towards Lotor, stopping half a step behind him so as not to stand side-by-side like an equal might. He’d learned this rule the hard way when he'd accidentally stumbled and stepped in front of one of his jailors as he’d been led out to the arena.</p><p>His upcoming fight probably saved his legs, but he hadn't received any dinner that night, not even after just barely surviving his duel.</p><p>He knows Lotor is just acting for the tailor's benefit and that he should get used to being addressed in a degrading manner. And yet. Answering to such a sharp tone never sat well with Lance. Not even in the military. It got him into trouble a number of times, but now... Now he doesn't have the luxury of a disciplinary committee. One wrong move might well be his last.</p><p>So he stands still, head hanging low as he waits for further instructions. He hopes this won't take long.</p><p>“I must congratulate you, Your Highness. You've picked a beautiful specimen for an Altean,” the tailor notes conversationally as he walks around Lance, admiring him. “I've watched this one fight, but he's much better suited in your rooms."</p><p>Lance grits his teeth at the comment. He wishes he could demonstrate just where exactly he was best suited, preferably with his weapons, but he forces himself to continue to look down and pointedly ignores the way the tailor's touch lingers a tick too long on his thighs as he starts to take his measurements.</p><p>"Enough, do not speak about my property as if you could possibly possess him! Do your job," Lotor orders scathingly. His words are enough to prompt the tailor to do his work silently and quickly, and Lance takes a deep breath when the tailor finally bows and leaves the room with the rest of his stunned team.</p><p>"Well. That was fun," Lance grumbles and raises his head, walking over to the bed and sitting down. "Do we get to eat now?"</p><p>Lotor runs a hand through his short wavy hair. Lance’s sharp eye catches the way Lotor’s shoulders fall, the tension seeping out of him. Lotor apparently feels his gaze on him and turns to look at Lance with an amused twist of the lips.</p><p>“That can certainly be arranged,” he says, motioning to the empty table they’d sat at the previous night. "Take a seat, and when the staff comes, just do as you did before.”</p><p>Lotor hesitates for a moment before clearing his throat.</p><p>"I apologize for how you will be treated," he states. “If it could be any other way..." He rubs his temple and sighs.</p><p>Lance studies Lotor for a long moment before nodding. Lotor appears to be sincere. And why shouldn't Lance believe him? He's treating him with respect right now, isn't he? That's what counts. Not the act they both put on for others to see.</p><p>"Don't worry about it," Lance leans back and allows himself to fall back down on the bed, closing his eyes. "I'll get used to it. There are worse things than being objectified by stupid Galra."</p><p>"Still, it is not something that you should have to get used to,” Lotor exhales and cautiously sits besides Lance, the mattress dipping under his weight.</p><p>"Lance, while you were very quick on your feet in the arena, and kept your wits about you with the tailor, I suspect that my father will call me to display you within the quintent. I want you to be prepared for that."</p><p>Lance opens his eyes and sits up. He isn't too sure what this 'displaying' entailed, but the hesitant note in Lotor's voice doesn’t bode well. If this was something that made even a prince nervous... Well. Lance wonders if this is something he's ready for.</p><p>"What do you mean, 'display'?" Lance asks, doing his best to mask his apprehension. "What do I need to do?"</p><p>Lotor's expression grows tight.</p><p>"With any luck, hopefully not too much. It depends on the degree of my father's interest in shaming me,” he sighs. "If you look presentable, I don't see why he won't just acquiesce,” he mumbles, more to himself than to Lance, and he shakes his head.</p><p>"If I play my cards right, you will not have to do anything more than what you just did,” Lotor says softly, cautiously taking Lance’s hand. “And if things do not go right, I will protect you from my father's wrath. I swear it.”</p><p>Lotor squeezes his hand and releases it before standing once again.</p><p>"It should go well, though," he states with an air of confidence. “This is not the first time I've manipulated my father and won."</p><p>Lance bites his lip. He hadn't resisted when Lotor took his hand and squeezed it- he can tell that it was a gesture meant to comfort him, or to perhaps comfort Lotor himself. But he's glad once his hand is returned to him. Lance has a feeling that his body isn't going to remain his own for much longer. His privacy, at the very least, is going to be compromised.</p><p>Lotor's explanation sounds dubious, at best. It doesn't really calm Lance's apprehension.</p><p>"...you have a really twisted relationship with your father, you know that?" Lance raises a brow and stands up. "What did you do to make him hate you so much?"</p><p>Lotor's lips curl into a twisted smile and he shakes his head.</p><p>“Existing," he answers like that was the most obvious thing in the universe. He folds his hands together and stares blankly ahead. “As for the reason behind this, I have yet to comprehend. Perhaps it has something to do with my mother, perhaps it is just me," his smile drops. “Either way, he still finds reasons that I must please his whims."</p><p>Lance frowns and reaches out, placing his hand on Lotor's shoulder. It was an instinctive move, one he made without even realizing he'd moved until his hand settled on Lotor, and at first Lance wants to drop it and pretend like it never happened. But he purses his lips and keeps his hand in place.</p><p>Sure, it might be awkward, but pulling away wouldn't be very nice.</p><p>Besides... Lotor hasn't been anything but nice to him since they established that they weren't going to kill each other. Lance could try to do the same. Just like his mother always used to say- being nice doesn't cost a thing.</p><p>Aside from his dignity, perhaps, but Lance quickly waves away the thought. That didn't apply to Lotor.</p><p>"That's awful," he says softly. "I was always told that Zarkon is a bad guy, but I didn't think that would extend to his own family."</p><p>Lotor cautiously places his hand over Lance’s and offers him a stiff smile.</p><p>"The person my father was before the war is gone. And from what I've been told, there wasn't much kindness either way to those who weren’t my mother or the late King Alfor. Thank you for your words,” he adds quietly. "I do appreciate them."</p><p>Lance returns the smile, hesitant and slow, before allowing his hand to slip off Lotor's shoulder. He knows for a fact that if his commanders and squadmates saw him now, they'd be ashamed of him for showing any Galra the smallest sign of sympathy. And a quintent ago, he'd think the same.</p><p>But things have changed drastically over such a small amount of time that Lance can still feel the whiplash. If he wants to survive, though, he'll need to continue to adapt.</p><p>"Right..." Lance clears his throat. "Um. You've got a lot of different lotions in there," he nods in the direction of the bathroom. "Mind showing me around until breakfast shows up?"</p><p>Lotor smiles at him and nods.</p><p>"Of course, you should become acquainted with this place," the 'it is your home now' left unsaid. He stands and motions for them to step into the washroom. Lance follows Lotor, feeling excited for the first time since his being taken into captivity.</p><p>“Do you have an interest in self-care?" Lotor asks as he picks up on of the lotions, squeezing a droplet into Lance's hand. “This is extracted from the Juniberry flowers on Altea," he explains.</p><p>Lance feels a pang as he raises his hand to his nose, closing his eyes as he takes in the scent of his childhood. There used to be so many Juniberry flowers around his family's home. Now they were all gone.</p><p>"I used to," Lance says thickly, clearing his throat and blinking rapidly until he felt it safe to continue. "I tried my best to keep it up at the barracks, but ever since I was brought here… Well," Lance shrugs and picks another bottle up to sniff at. "My skin is in dire need of moisturizing."</p><p>“I don’t think it’s as bad as you believe it to be,” Lotor replies neutrally before handing him a cream. “Try this,” he offers with a smile.</p><p>Lance scoffs at Lotor's attempt at being nice- he's seen himself in the mirror, he knows what his skin should look like. Nevertheless, he takes the cream from Lotor's hand and returns the smile. "Thank you. At this point I'm willing to try anything!"</p><p>Lotor chuckles and waits a beat before meeting Lance’s eyes in the mirror.</p><p>“If I may ask, what was it like being an Altean soldier?”</p><p>Lance screws the lid open but looks up at Lotor's question before he has the chance to sniff the cream’s scent. His expression darkens at the past tense, but Lance swallows his pride and turns around to lean back against the counter as he thinks.</p><p>"An Altean soldier strives to better themselves in order to improve their squad's performance," Lance says slowly, recalling the speeches at his initiation ceremony. His family had been so proud.</p><p>"Your squad is your family. You do everything together and support each other. To lose one is like losing a limb."</p><p>He doesn't elaborate further.</p><p>"It sounds like they were a good team to have,” Lotor finally replies after a prolonged silence. "I hope, someday, I can offer you that same support."</p><p>Lotor’s ears visibly quirk at the sound of the main door sliding open.</p><p>“Stay here, relax," he urges kindly. “I will take care of the arrangements."</p><p>Lance watches as Lotor leaves the washroom, closing the door behind him, presumably to give Lance some privacy as he dealt with whoever it was that had just entered the room. Hopefully breakfast. Lance swallows thickly and tries to focus on the prospect of his first real meal in far too long.</p><p>Thinking about his teammates is just too painful right now, and Lance doesn't want to cry in Lotor's presence.</p><p>He’s been nice so far, but Lance isn't quite ready to expose himself any more than he already has. Maybe one day they'll be able to offer each other the kind of support Lance shared with his team, like Lotor said. But that kind of trust isn't built in a day. It’s a kind of trust based on a culmination of experiences and shared hardships.</p><p>Lance can still make out more than one voice on the other side of the door, so he decides to busy himself with inspecting the rest of Lotor's stash. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror again and briefly wonders what kind of grooming routines he'll be expected to adopt in order to meet Galran beauty standards, if they have any. Lance has yet to see one pretty Galra.</p><p>Except for Lotor, but he was half Altean, so it made sense that Lance should find him appealing. At the very least, more appealing than the other Galra he's encountered so far. Hell, he even had the royal Altean family's silver hair, now that Lance took a moment to reflect on it. How could that have happened?</p><p>Lance tears his eyes away from the mirror and walks over to the door, carefully pulling it open now that it was quiet. Much to his relief, Lotor was the only other person in the room.</p><p>Lotor, and a tray full of food.</p><p>Lance's eyes widen and he walks towards the food, as if in a trance. He snaps out of it just as he leans down and reaches for what looked like a breakfast pastry.</p><p>Embarrassed, he quickly retracts his hand and looks up at Lotor.</p><p>"Sorry, that probably isn't for me, right?"</p><p>He looks around for another tray, a more modest one, but can't find one. Lance's shoulders sag dejectedly. Now that he’d allowed himself to think about food, it’s the only thing on his mind. He’s absolutely starving. Maybe his food was on the way?</p><p>Lotor audibly sighs.</p><p>"Lance, all of this and whatever else you should want, is yours,” he says plainly, picking up the pastry that Lance had reached for. He delicately places it on a plate and offers it to Lance. "Please, eat whatever you would like. And please sit," He motions to the chair across from where he stands.</p><p>"Oh. Okay," Lance sits down awkwardly and accepts the plate. "Thank you."</p><p>Had someone told him last quintent that he'd be eating breakfast at Zarkon’s son’s table, Lance would've told them to shut their mouth and eat the crumbs they were given in prison. But here he is, biting into a pastry and closing his eyes as the sweet taste explodes in his mouth.</p><p>This.... He can definitely get used to this.</p><p>"So, uh, what's the plan for today after we eat?" Lance asks as he reaches out and piles his plate with more pastries. He'd always joked about having a figure to maintain, but after practically starving in his imprisonment, Lance figures he could use a little extra meat on his bones.</p><p>"Ah," Lotor exhales. "I would like to ask you a few more questions about yourself and your skills, when you are ready to answer them. However, since you are still confined to my chambers, would you like to begin your Altean reading lessons?"</p><p>Lance nods, perhaps a little too eagerly.</p><p>"Yeah, that'd be great," he smiles before taking another bite from his pastry. "Is it difficult?"</p><p>It feels rather odd, and a little humiliating, to have to ask a Galra about an aspect of his own culture. But if Lance is finally being given the opportunity to learn, he doesn't have the luxury of choosing his teacher.</p><p>"I mean, I'm not afraid of working hard!" He quickly adds, realizing his question might come off as a little lazy. "It's just that you haven't slept in a long time and I don't want you to tax yourself."</p><p>Lotor arches a brow.</p><p>"But what will you do?" He asks. “Thank you for your concern, but my weariness is bearable. At the very least, I can get you acquainted with the alphabet. How does that sound?" He compromises. "I will rest right after."</p><p>Blinking, Lance sets his plate back down on the table and meets Lotor's gaze with a wry grin.</p><p>"I'm a prisoner. I spent hours alone in my cell. Believe me, I find ways to entertain myself," he snorts and stands up, mindful of keeping his shirt from riding up. He hopes the clothes will arrive soon. "But going over the basics sounds good to me."</p><p>Lotor lets out a laugh and shakes his head.</p><p>“Well, I suppose you've got me there,” he remarks and stands as well. “We may begin in a varga, when you’re ready."</p><p>"Great!" Lance beams and watches Lotor walk into his study. He's tempted to follow and observe the preparations, but Lance can tell that his presence wouldn't be exactly welcomed. Lotor gave off the impression of an isolated man in general and while he's been polite and generous so far, Lance wonders how he's been coping with his continued presence without so much as a break.</p><p>This would be a good opportunity to give Lotor some alone time while Lance explored the rest of the chambers.</p><p>Lance quickly learns that there isn't much to explore, unfortunately. Aside from the washroom and study, the rest of Lotor's main room is rather bare. The only two real objects of interest are his bed and closet, and though Lance is curious, he doesn't dare touch Lotor's closet. He knows just how personal they can be.</p><p>So he goes back to the washroom instead, closing the door behind him before pulling his shirt off and studying his reflection in the full-body mirror.</p><p>If he’s going to be a concubine, he's going to have to look the part.</p><p>And there’s a lot of work to be done.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading chapter two! We're thrilled at the warm reception this fic has received so far, and we hope you continue to enjoy it with each update! :)</p><p>For those who are curious, this fic is based on a roleplay of ours. Lotor is written by HunkyDory (hunky-dory.tumblr.com), and Lance by Hannaadi88 (hannaadi88.tumblr.com). You can check out our joint twitter account at https://twitter.com/hannadory1</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Part 1 (III)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lance takes his time in the washroom, shaving and plucking and washing and applying a great number of creams after he finishes bathing. He feels like a new person as he towels himself off and beams at his reflection in the mirror, recognizing the man he used to be before his capture. His Altean markings finally glow the way they should.</p><p>Unwilling to dress in the same shirt he’d previously worn, Lance ties a towel around his hips and exits the washroom, intent on finding Lotor and asking for another garment to wear while they studied. But the scene that greets him when he enters the study makes Lance freeze and hold his breath.</p><p>Lotor was slumped over his scrolls, sleeping.</p><p>Lance watches Lotor’s back rise and fall for a good few dobashes before mustering the courage to walk in and observe more closely. He nibbles his lower lip thoughtfully as he considers Lotor's sleeping face. He looks so calm like this. Peaceful.</p><p>Vulnerable.</p><p>A rogue thought comes to mind- that this is his chance. Now that Lotor's guard is down, Lance can do anything. He can explore the room properly, sneak out and run away...</p><p>Kill him.</p><p>Lance quickly digs his nails into his palms and turns away. Killing an enemy while they slept was the epitome of a coward; dishonest, pathetic and weak. Lance is a warrior of Altea. It went against his very nature to attack someone who couldn't defend themselves.</p><p>Besides. Lotor isn't the enemy. If he were, he never would've allowed himself to be so vulnerable in Lance’s presence.</p><p>Reassured, Lance walks out of the study and enters the main room. He approaches the bed and grabs the blanket, silently carrying it back to the study and ever so carefully resting it on top of Lotor's shoulders. He'd done this a thousand times with his nieces and nephews. He looks at Lotor for a long moment before returning to the bed and curling up under the remaining sheets.</p><p>He could use a nap as well.</p><p>The next thing Lance registers is an automated voice, and the sound of a door sliding closed. He blearily opens his eyes and slowly forces himself to sit up. He groans and stretches his arms over his head.</p><p>He'd never slept as deeply as he does in Lotor's bed. His mattress takes luxury to the next level.</p><p>It's only when the cold air nips at his skin that Lance remembers that he's practically naked under the covers. He quickly grabs the blanket and pulls it up to cover himself as he looks across the room at Lotor, who was holding something glowing in his hand.</p><p>"What's that?" Lance calls out, interest piqued.</p><p>Lotor looks up briefly before returning his gaze to the tech in his hand. He presses a few buttons, and an image appears.</p><p>"A message from my father,” he intones sourly. Lance goes very still as he sees Zarkon's image flicker above Lotor, and a shiver runs down Lance's spine as Zarkon opens his mouth and speaks.</p><p>“Lotor," Zarkon’s voice fills the room, "I hope that you and your... Prize," he says in a mocking tone, "have settled. I would like to see the Altean that has caught your attention.”</p><p>Lance’s fingers dig into the fabric in his hands at the insinuation that he is some sort of possession; though Lance supposes that was something he'd have to get used to outside Lotor's quarters. He grows a little bolder, squaring his shoulders with confidence that this audience is something he can pull off, when Zarkon adds, almost as an afterthought, a threat.</p><p>“I expect to see the both of you in 3 vargas," Zarkon continues, "and he better impress, boy, or I'll throw him right back into the arena."</p><p>Lance's eyes widen. He'd just come to terms with the fact that he couldn't keep winning in the arena, couldn't survive the carnage Zarkon was planning for all the Altean warriors.</p><p>"I can't go back," he whispers, panic rising in his chest. His eyes snap to Lotor's face and he swallows thickly, suddenly feeling very alone and weak to be so dependent on a Galra. But he has no choice. If he wants to survive, he'll need Lotor's help.</p><p>"How do I impress him?" Lance demands, bile rising in his throat at the necessity of caring for Zarkon's opinion of him. To attempt to please him. "What do I need to do?"</p><p>Lotor’s grip audibly tightens around the message device, cracking it, as he approaches the bed.</p><p>"You won't return to the arena, I won't allow it," he states. He peers down at Lance and offers him a wane smile.</p><p>“Well, you're off to a very good start,” he says kindly, his hand brushing through hair, "but I will ensure that you do whatever it takes to appease my father."</p><p>Lotor pauses and grips Lance's chin.</p><p>"I do not wish for you to return to the arena. You will be fine,” he says firmly.</p><p>Lance worries his lip. He doesn't know how he should feel, but Lotor’s words do instill confidence.</p><p>Can he really trust Lotor to protect him against his father? True, Lotor had proved himself to be a strong opponent, and he seemed clever enough, but he isn't Zarkon. Could anyone really protect him against the ruler of the Galra Empire?</p><p>Some part of Lance obviously thinks so, because it was suddenly becoming a lot easier to breathe.</p><p>A loud knock on the door startles Lance and he pulls away from Lotor's grasp, rewrapping his towel securely around his hips as Lotor opens the door. He stays under the covers, away from the visiting Galra's curious eyes, as Lotor accepts a bundle from them.</p><p>The moment the Galra is gone, Lance climbs out of bed and takes the heap of fabric and gold from Lotor's hands. These are his new clothes, no doubt, and heads into the washroom to try them on. He's so excited to finally have clothes of his own that it's not until Lance sees his reflection that he realizes what he's wearing.</p><p>He's never looked so beautiful, yet utterly indecent.</p><p>"I-I can't wear this!" Lance stomps over to the door and opens it just enough to peek his head out and meet Lotor’s gaze. His face burns.</p><p>"Don't you have enough money to pay for real fabric?”</p><p>Lotor snorts.</p><p>"I most certainly do, but we're not yet at the point where casual clothes are even an option for my new Altean concubine, unfortunately."</p><p>He stands up from his chair and approaches Lance.</p><p>"I'm confident that whatever you're wearing will impress my father,” Lotor assures. “That is what we are aiming for, if you recall.”</p><p>"You expect me to wear this in front of Zarkon?" Lance asks faintly, mind reeling. He'd seen the other Altean concubines' outfits whenever he’d caught a glimpse of them in the arena, and they'd never looked so... Transparent. He’d expected his new outfit would show some skin, but this? There was very little left to the imagination!</p><p>"I need you to wear this in front of my father. Trust me when I wish there was another way,” Lotor says grimly.</p><p>Lance steps back and allows Lotor into the bathroom without thinking, still trying to wrap his mind around the idea of being presented to the destroyer of Altea in this tunic. It's only when he realizes that Lotor's eyes are on him that he remembers that he isn't alone in the room.</p><p>"Do you require any help? I know Galran smocks are often needlessly complex,” Lotor offers.</p><p>"I, uh," Lance stutters, forcing himself not to try and hide himself from Lotor's eyes. That would be admitting his embarrassment. But he can't help the way his skin burns all over at Lotor's presence. Lance decides a that distraction is in order and quickly walks over to the box on the counter, handing it to Lotor.</p><p>"You can help me with this. It's pretty," he admits, "but I've never seen this kind of jewellery before. Where does it go? How do you put it on?"</p><p>Lotor accepts the box and gives the jewels a brief look.</p><p>“They go on your thigh," he explains.</p><p>Lance gives the jewels a dubious look before offering Lotor a stiff nod. He raises his leg and rests his foot on the elevated rim of the tub. Lance’s cheeks continue to flame as Lotor bends down to fasten the jewelled chain on his thigh. He tries not to fidget too much or to overthink, Lotor is just helping him. But the briefest lingering touch on his skin elicits a small shiver.</p><p>If Lotor notices, he doesn't comment on it, instead moving on to clasp a number of glowing jewels Lance’s ears.</p><p>Lance is forced to begrudgingly admit that Lotor is attractive, to say the least. His Altean features were rather prominent, after all, despite his eyes and coloring. Lance would be lying if he said that he wasn’t just the bit flustered by Lotor’s touch and proximity.</p><p>But just because he's meant to pose as Lotor's concubine doesn't mean that he's willing to play the part when it's just the two of them. One would think he'd have enough of skin on skin contact from his weeks in the arena to last him a lifetime.</p><p>"We still have a little time," Lotor breaks the silence. "My father isn't expecting us just yet, but we are ready.”</p><p>Lance nods, allowing himself to be reassured for the time being. One last box catches his eye and he picks it up. Another jewel? Even the opulent Altean court didn't condone so many accessories.</p><p>When he opens the box, he indeed sees a flash of gold. But the circular shape with bold engravings makes his mouth go dry.</p><p>"This is a collar, isn't it," he states softly and carefully sets the box back down on the counter.</p><p>Lotor glances at the open box and his expression visibly sours. "I'm afraid so," he says with a sigh.</p><p>Lance eyes Lotor's movements warily, watching closely as he lifts the collar out of the box. It looks stiff and heavy and Lance takes a step back. He doesn't want that thing around his neck in the worst way. His stance relaxes, however, when Lotor returns the awful thing into the box and sets it down.</p><p>“I think to best you don't wear it,” Lotor states. "Rather,” he says softly, with a hesitant smile, "perhaps this would suit you better."</p><p>He walks out of the room and Lance follows him curiously. He watches as Lotor approaches his dresser and pulls out a small container, opening it slowly before turning around and showing Lance its contents.</p><p>"I know it is customary for Altean royalty to wear this, but I thought, well," Lotor exhales heavily, "you might want to keep up the tradition."</p><p>Lance’s eyes widen as he sees the silver circlet with a blue, striking stone set in the center.</p><p>An Altean crown.</p><p>A wave of nausea rolls through him and Lance bolts back to the washroom, spitting up bile into the sink and gripping the cold stone bowl in his clammy hands. He gasps and takes a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down and wash his face. He grits his teeth as he turns around to face Lotor, who had rushed after him. Lance’s eyes zero on the crown still in his hands.</p><p>"I can't wear it," he states firmly, though sounding a lot fainter than he would've liked. He clears his throat and stands up a little straighter.</p><p>"I refuse. Where did you get that?" He demands. "The Queen? Did one of your men pry this off the Princess's dead body?"</p><p>He'd sworn to protect the royal family, and though he hadn't been there during the slaughter, Lance knows it wasn't an excuse for failing them so miserably. The least he can do is refuse to wear what was only fit to rest on silver tresses.</p><p>Lotor blanches and immediately puts the crown back in its box, "no, no, nothing like that,” he supplies and turns back to look at Lance.</p><p>"It belonged to my mother. While she was not royalty, King Alfor sent her a gift for her tireless research, as well as to celebrate the union of her and my..."</p><p>Lotor’s expression pinches.</p><p>"Father,” he says stiffly. "She apparently wasn't one for excessive jewellery, so it was just gathering dust." He exhales a heavy sigh.</p><p>"I truly meant no disrespect, and I wish I could provide an answer to the matter of Princess Allura’s whereabouts, but I never attained that report. If anyone knows what happened to her, it is my father and him alone."</p><p>Lance's anger fades at Lotor's explanation, though the bitter taste remains. The crown might not have fallen into Lotor's possession in a malicious manner, but Lance can't shake the guilt off his shoulders from failing those who might've worn it. The mere thought of appearing in front of Zarkon, dressed as he is, wearing a sign of Altean royalty... It was repulsive. He's glad Lotor doesn't insist.</p><p>Lance would've never been able to forgive the insult to his kingdom.</p><p>"Come, he's expecting us, we shouldn't be late,” Lotor adds awkwardly and leaves the washroom.</p><p>The confidence Lance had garnered before is gone, had disappeared along with his anger. All that is now left is a tired wariness and what remains of the bile in his stomach. He doesn't want to go. Not like this.</p><p>Yet the consequences of his refusal still rings loud in his ears.</p><p>Lance washes his face and runs his wet fingers through his hair. It’s longer than he usually wears it, but they don't have the time to cut it now. He sighs at his reflection and walks over to Lotor, assessing the armor he’d donned with interest. He hasn't seen Lotor suited up yet.</p><p>He looks good.</p><p>"Can anything break Galra armor?" Lance wonders, pressing a hand to Lotor's breastplate. "I tried shooting and slicing through, but I didn't even leave a dent..."</p><p>“No, it is virtually impenetrable,” Lotor answers. “But that is true only of those who can afford this material.”</p><p>Lance studies Lotor's armor in new light, just a bit envious. It made a lot more sense now why he hadn't been able to land much of a blow on the enemy soldiers in battle. But then, if what Lotor said is true, then Lance most likely hadn't faced a common Galra soldier during the invasion. He hadn't been able to even scratch their armor, and if only the rich could afford such protection, then he must have fought a high-ranking Galra. That makes Lance's defeat a little less humiliating in retrospect.</p><p>He stands still and closes his eyes obligingly when Lotor asks, allowing him to apply something to his eyes and lips. Lance has never worn makeup before, aside from childish curiosity and experimentation when he was home alone, and when he looks at the mirror, his reflection isn't displeasing.</p><p>He doesn't look much like a soldier, though.</p><p>“I promise you, Lance, I will protect you. He cannot get to you,” Lotor cups Lance’s chin in his hand.</p><p>Lance looks away from his reflection with shame, his skin burning under Lotor's touch. The man in the mirror looks nothing like Lance remembers himself to be, but then, perhaps that was a good thing. Not looking like himself might help make the ordeal feel a little less personal.</p><p>"Alright, I'm ready."</p><p>Lotor runs his fingers through Lance's hair, making a few final adjustments, before nodding and resting his hand on Lance’s shoulder.</p><p>"Keep your eyes downcast and don't respond to anyone other than myself or my father,” he says gently. "I will not let any harm befall you."</p><p>Lance nods mutely at Lotor's reassurance, throat suddenly too dry to make a sound. No talking shouldn't be difficult in this state. He follows Lotor out of the room and though he'd been getting a little stir-crazy, Lance immediately wishes he was back inside once a group of sentries surrounds them. His body stiffens at their proximity, memories of being escorted just like this to and from the arena rising unbidden in his mind's eye.</p><p>An arm wrapping around his waist snaps him back to the present. Lance can acutely feel the cool, dry touch of Lotor's gloves practically against his skin and somehow, it was enough to help settle at least some of his discomfort. It's a reminder of how bare and vulnerable he is without a weapon or even proper clothes, but knowing that Lotor is there to protect him is better than nothing.</p><p>Lance would rather not have to rely on anyone for his well being, not without being able to reciprocate, but if he had to choose his guard, the Prince of the Galra Empire wasn't too bad of a candidate.</p><p>They walk down the seemingly endless halls until they reach the huge double doors leading to what Lance guesses is Zarkon’s throne room. His hand reaches out instinctively to grab Lotor's and he wordlessly squeezes it before letting it drop to his side.</p><p>He isn't ready. But it's not like he has a choice in the matter.</p><p>Lance doesn't have to fake his trembling as they're escorted past the doors. All it takes is one brief look at the Galran on the throne for Lance to immediately lower his gaze and stare at the cold floor.</p><p>He'd never actually seen Zarkon in the flesh before, only seen his picture and heard of him and his exploits both as a Paladin of Voltron and as the destroyer of Altea. To be in his presence and to have his eyes on him was beyond overwhelming. Lance is grateful for Lotor's firm grasp around his waist. His face warms up with shame at the realization that his legs would've probably given out without it.</p><p>Even without Zarkon’s piercing gaze, Lance feels severely uncomfortable and exposed. There were about a dozen other Galra soldiers hovering in the sidelines and Lance can swear that he feels all of their gazes locked on him. It's almost as if he's been thrust into a new kind of arena. But only this time, he isn't the one doing the fighting.</p><p>Nevertheless, all eyes remain on him. Lance yearns for a warm bath to scrub off their nefarious intentions from his skin.</p><p>"Father, I must thank you for granting my request to claim the Altean, he's proven to be a great prize,” Lotor’s words echo in the large hall. “I hope he meets your satisfaction."</p><p>Zarkon’s eyes narrow.</p><p>“He cleans up nice, I can understand your interest," he comments, eyes dragging over Lance's form. "However, I see he is missing his collar."</p><p>Lance stiffens. He hadn't been too thrilled at the thought of wearing a collar, but why had Lotor given up so easily? Lance would willingly wear chains if that meant that he didn't need to return to the arena. But before he's able to fret over it too much, Lotor's silky voice smoothens the issue over.</p><p>“My Altean doesn't need a collar to know who he belongs to,” Lotor says, shifting his hand to grip Lance's chin. "Kneel," he commands.</p><p>Lance is quick to lower himself to his knees, careful to keep his eyes downcast. The way father and son spoke of him was downright humiliating, but Lance knows it's an act on Lotor's part. He'd do well to detach himself from the conversation. However, Lance quickly learns that he cannot afford to tune Zarkon out entirely.</p><p>"I see. Regardless,” Zarkon says monotonously, “I regret to inform you that there is someone present who refutes your claim.”</p><p>Lance raises his head before he can stop himself, shocked at the new information, and all color immediately drains from his face as he sees the Galra Zarkon spoke of.</p><p>It was <em>Him</em>.</p><p>Panic swells in Lance's chest, making it difficult to breathe. The last time he saw that Galra was just before he'd suffered a blow to the head that knocked him out. The next thing Lance knew, he was on a Galra ship.</p><p>The Galra in question takes a step forward and meets Lance’s gaze with a sneer.</p><p>Anger replaces the panic in Lance's chest and he grits his teeth, refusing to lower his gaze. He might've lost to this Galra in battle, but he has no intention of cowering in front of him here. Even in his woeful state of undress.</p><p>"It's clear to all that this Altean still has a lot to learn in ways of submission," the Galra clears his throat. "I am uncertain that the Prince is up to the task. There is too much fire in him that only a full-blooded Galra can hope to tame."</p><p>Lotor grasps at the loose strands of Lance's hair and holds them tightly in his fist, openly sneering at the Galra Commander.</p><p>"Perhaps it is because I am the Prince of the Galra Empire that he shows me respect and obedience. You, on the other hand, have no status to your name to earn such submission,” he counters and tilts his head up in a show of superiority.</p><p>Lance bites his tongue and he remembers himself, quickly lowering his gaze despite the hate boiling within. This was all just an elaborate game of posturing, and he isn't one of the contestants. All he needs to focus on is surviving. There was no winning here.</p><p>"But if you're so confident of your claim, act on it. Try to take my prize."</p><p>Unease spreads through his belly as Lotor challenges the other Galra. He can feel Lotor's fingers in his hair, gentle and soothing this time, but they offer little comfort when the heavy thud of the Galra Commander's approaching boots sound in the otherwise silent hall. Lance holds his breath as those boots come to a stop in front of him and he forces himself to look down.  The last thing Lotor needs is for him to antagonize this Galra further.</p><p>But in the end his effort is for naught. Lance cries out in surprise as the Galra Commander grabs him by the throat and yanks him to his feet.</p><p>Lance's instincts kick in and bares his teeth, clawing at the Galra's hands and struggles in an attempt to get him to let go. But when he meets the Galra's gaze, all he can see is amusement and something far more sinister in his eyes in response to his struggling.</p><p>"This Altean is mine," the Galra Commander proclaims, tightening his chokehold. "I disarmed and captured him in battle. If he isn't to return to the arena for the Empire's pleasure, his place is in my bed."</p><p>There’s a flurry of movement and Lance falls to his knees with a wet cough, gasping for air. He looks up just in time to see the Galra Commander's throat being slit and feel his blood splatter on his nose and cheeks. Lance blinks, not unused to blood after his career as a soldier and his stint in the arena.</p><p>But to feel it splatter, wet and warm, from another's blow made in his name, was... Peculiar. An absurd thought crosses his mind that his outfit was ruined.</p><p>Well, good. He didn't like it anyway.</p><p>Lance numbly back up to his feet and stands at Lotor's side, hyper aware of the magnificent sword in his hand.</p><p>“The Altean,” Lotor says in a loud voice, “is mine, and mine alone. Those who dare to touch my property will be swiftly dealt with.”</p><p>Lotor sheathes his sword and looks up at Zarkon, sitting impassively on his throne.</p><p>“Father,” he says crisply, “will there be anything else?”</p><p>“Put the collar on him,” Zarkon states before dismissing them with a wave.</p><p>Lance looks up briefly at the mention of the collar and shivers as his eyes meet Zarkon's gaze. He's relieved when Lotor puts a hand on his waist and leads him out of the hall and back to Lotor's quarters.</p><p>It's only when they're alone once again behind closed doors that Lance exhales and collapses onto the couch.</p><p>"So that went well."</p><p>Lotor looks up from cleaning his sword and chuckles.</p><p>“Yes, that is one way to describe it,” he says softly before extending his free hand to nestle under Lance’s chin. “I have a salve for your neck, if you’re interested. I suggest you close your eyes and relax. That must’ve been a taxing experience on you.”</p><p>"Hmm, it certainly wasn't easy for you, either," Lance tilts his head and meets Lotor's eyes. "Thank you for standing up for me back there. I only wish I could've been the one to land that blow."</p><p>He pulls away and leans against the back of the couch wearily.</p><p>"I know it was necessary for this first audience, but I refuse to leave your rooms unarmed again. I can't very well protect either of us without a weapon. Now," he looks to Lotor's closet, "can I borrow some of your clothes again? I'd like to be decent, if it's all the same to you."</p><p>Lotor nods.</p><p>“Feel free, I’ll arrange for some clothes to be made for you. Outsourced,” he adds with a soft sigh. “I would have loved nothing else than to grant you that final blow to your attacker, but I hope my doing so is alright with you.”</p><p>Lotor sheaths his blade and begins to undo his armor.</p><p>“When you’ve rested and recovered, I’ll show you my armory. Perhaps something will catch your eye.”</p><p>Lance nods and offers Lotor a small smile as the prince excuses himself and heads into the washroom.</p><p>"I'd like that," Lance says quietly to himself and pulls off the ruined tunic over his head. It was already mostly covered in blood, so Lance thinks nothing of wiping his face and arms from the spattering of crimson. Once he's done he lets the flimsy fabric fall to the floor and wrinkles his nose. Good riddance.</p><p>He opts to keep the shorts on, though, and walks over to Lotor's closet to pick out a new shirt that reaches his thighs, just like the nightshirt he’d word before. He feels a little more confident now that he at least has something to wear on the bottom, minimal as it was.</p><p>Lance finishes his undressing by unclasping and pulling off the rest of the jewellry and placing it all on top of Lotor's dresser. Some of it was going to need to be cleaned.</p><p>He's sitting on the edge of the bed by the time Lotor returns with the salve he’d mentioned. Lance welcomes him back with a tired smile.</p><p>"Do you mind helping me with that?"</p><p>Lance doesn't elaborate, simply asks. He isn't quite sure how to phrase the need bubbling inside him to replace the feel of that awful Galra's hands with Lotor's comparatively gentle ones. Isn't sure if he wants to voice it.</p><p>Lance sighs and closes his eyes as Lotor wordlessly agrees, sitting down on the bed behind him. Lotor cleans the rest of the blood from Lance’s skin with a damp towel before applying the salve to his neck. Lotor's hands are soft and careful and Lance feels the tension in his body melt under his ministrations.</p><p>“I’m sorry that you had to experience that,” Lotor says quietly. “All of it.”</p><p>"...it's not your fault, you know," Lance opens his eyes and looks at Lotor solemnly over his shoulder. "You have nothing to apologise for. I owe you my life."</p><p>Lotor wipes the remaining salve from his fingers and cups Lance’s chin.</p><p>“That is kind of you to say,” he offers a small smile and pulls away. “I insist that you rest. When you’re up for it, we will begin our studies and get you prepared for your duty as my guard.”</p><p>Lotor slips off the bed and turns to face Lance, extending his hand to rest on Lance’s shoulder.</p><p>“I don’t expect any interruptions from my father for a fair bit, so you can rest easy,” he assures. “As for the collar,” his eyes are drawn to the box, “that is for me to handle.”</p><p>Lotor squeezes his shoulder and nods to the bed.</p><p>“Rest, Lance. Please.”</p><p>Lance looks between Lotor and the bed and finally nods, conceding to both Lotor and his own body's desire to rest. He’d assumed that the excitement from the whole affair would keep him from resting, but the moment Lance's back hits the mattress, he feels himself melt into it.</p><p>This is where he should be now. As should Lotor.</p><p>"You need to rest, too," Lance argues, sitting up with a frown. "You only slept at your desk for a few vargas since we met. You're crazy if you think you can keep going like this, half-Galra or not."</p><p>Lotor lifts his hands in concession.</p><p>“I’ll have you know, I am capable of many things, even as a half-Altean,” he counters with amusement.</p><p>Snorting, Lance slips under the covers with a smile, satisfied that Lotor was going to rest as well. He tells himself that he's worried about Lotor because he needs Lotor at his best to protect him, and while that is true, Lance isn't awake enough to deny that he actually cares if Lotor is taking care of himself or not.</p><p>"M’kay," Lance mumbles and closes his eyes. He’s tired enough to think nothing of the rustle of sheets and Lotor’s presence on the other side of the bed.</p><p>Lotor’s bed is large enough for all of Lance’s squadmates to rest comfortably together. As long as Lotor sticks to his side of the bed, Lance doesn’t mind.</p><p>And even if he doesn’t… Well.</p><p>Lance’s sleep-addled brain doesn’t seem to mind that, either.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey guys! Lance and Lotor finally leave their chambers for a bit, haha ;) Check in next week for some more action! </p><p>And don't forget- comments make an author's day significantly brighter! Feel free to check out our twitter account at https://twitter.com/hannadory1 💗</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Part 1 (IV)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“How is the studying? Do you require any assistance?"</p><p>Lance looks up from the tablet he’d been reading from and flashes Lotor a proud smile.</p><p>"I think I just had a breakthrough!"</p><p>Lotor leans against the study’s door and returns Lance’s smile. The prince has a nice smile, and after spending two cycles in his company, Lance has found himself trying his best to earn one after the other. It was easy enough during their sparring sessions, as they stood on more or less equal footing. But his Altean lessons took true effort in order to make progress, and Lotor’s smiles were few and far between.</p><p>Lance had always known that Altean was a difficult language to learn, hence why only those with means had the time to master it. But Lance couldn't have imagined that the reason it took so long to learn was due to there being over a thousand different character variations. How Lotor was able to learn them all, on top of all the other languages he spoke, was beyond him.</p><p>"Look!" Lance motions for Lotor to come closer and points to the score of his most recent quiz on the tablet screen. "See? That's ten points more than yesterday!"</p><p>Lotor approaches the desk and rests a hand on Lance's shoulder, squeezing it as he reviews Lance’s results.</p><p>“That is excellent news! I'm glad you're improving."</p><p>Lance beams and leans back in his chair so that he can see Lotor's expression. Aside from the simple attractiveness of Lotor’s smile, there was something undeniably appealing about knowing that he was probably the only one who got to see it. Keeping that secret knowledge of Lotor's soft side gave Lance the motivation he needed whenever they set foot out of Lotor's quarters and the Prince of the Galra Empire emerged, fierce and cold. Nothing like the Lotor leaning against the desk now.</p><p>“Would you like to take a break from studying? There is somewhere I wish to take you,” Lotor offers, and Lance’s curiosity is piqued. He tilts his head and shrugs, trying not to look too excited.</p><p>"I guess I can use a breather. What do you want to show me?"</p><p>Lotor crosses his arms and lifts a brow.</p><p>“You'll see soon enough," he offers mysteriously, a smile still playing across his lips as he nods towards the door. Lance stands up and gives a little sigh as he walks out of the room and approaches the new wardrobe Lotor had installed especially for him.</p><p>It’s not that Lance doesn’t like being draped in finery. He does. He just wishes he could have a say in his outfit designs- especially concerning the transparency of the chosen fabric. He wears Lotor’s hand-me-downs when it’s just the two of them in their chambers, but once Lance sets foot outside the large sliding door, he must play and dress the part of a royal concubine.</p><p>And that, of course, included the collar Lotor had made for him. It wasn’t the collar Zarkon had sent, but it still constricted around Lance’s throat, despite the measures Lotor had taken in order to make it as comfortable as possible for him.</p><p>It didn’t matter how beautiful, minimal and padded the collar was. It was still a collar, and whenever Lance snapped it on, it made it just a bit more difficult to breathe.</p><p>He takes comfort in the cool iron strapped against his thigh. Lance might have to play the part of a concubine, but his real job was to protect Lotor. And since that very first audience with Zarkon, Lotor had kept his promise and procured a special blade for Lance to carry on his body at all times. Not even the sheerest of Lance’s tunics was transparent enough for the weapon to be seen, and Lance brushes his fingers delicately over the handle before straightening his clothes and adjusting the collar around his neck.</p><p>He’s ready to leave.</p><p>Lance follows Lotor out of the room and down the halls at a respectful distance of one step behind, eyes lowered. It's not any different than the way the other Altean concubines follow their masters, but Lance has since trained himself to discreetly study their surroundings with his head bowed. There was little point to a bodyguard who couldn’t foresee and intercept an attack on their client.</p><p>After a few dobashes of silent walking, Lotor turns the corner and leads Lance down a deserted corridor. He comes to a stop in front of a door and Lance feels confident enough to raise his head. His eyes widen as he catches a scent he never thought he'd smell again. He quickly turns to look at Lotor, opening his mouth with a question on his tongue, but Lotor beats him to it.</p><p>"Before Altea was lost, I had collected some of its seeds,” he says a little nervously as he presses his hand to the palm scanner. The door slides open and Lotor takes a step back, motioning for Lance to enter.</p><p>“I wanted to wait until they were in full bloom before showing them to you.”</p><p>"It can't be,” Lance murmurs as he steps into the room, and yet, it was. Hundreds of juniberry flowers filled the room, just as purple and fragrant as Lance remembers them from his own backyard. There are other familiar plants and flowers in the room as well, but Lance has eyes only for the juniberry.</p><p>He doesn't realize that he's crying until he tastes salt on his lips.</p><p>"They're beautiful," Lance whispers and lowers himself to his knees in front of a cluster, hesitantly reaching out to touch one, afraid they might all disappear and the illusion may break at his touch. It doesn't.</p><p>"I never- I never thought I'd see them again."</p><p>Lotor lowers himself to his knees next to Lance and brushes his shoulder with his own.</p><p>"I am the only one who has access to this room,” he states as he plucks one of the flowers and carefully tucks it behind Lance's ear. Lance holds his breath.</p><p>He's felt Lotor's touch in far more intimate places, thanks to his complicated outfits, yet Lotor’s innocent gesture brings a full flush to Lance's face. He isn't embarrassed, though. His belly does a little flop he hasn't felt in a long time.</p><p>"As time passes, you will be able to come here on your own, unaccompanied. Concubines are often granted this liberty; it will not appear strange. Give it a pheeb or so,” Lotor says kindly, brushing away a stray tear from Lance’s cheek.</p><p>"I want this place to be your sanctuary. I realize that even in the privacy of my chambers, you don't have a space of your own. Let this room be that for you."</p><p>Lance bites his lip. He refuses to cry. Not here, not now. But he's so damn close. Before he can think it through, Lance launches himself against Lotor's chest and wraps his arms around Lotor's neck, burying his face in the prince's shoulder. Lance takes a deep, shaky breath.</p><p>"Why are you so kind to me?" He asks, words muffled. "This goes well beyond our arrangement. You didn't have to do this."</p><p>Lotor takes his outburst in stride, wrapping his arms around Lance without a word of complaint.</p><p>"I'm kind to you because you deserve kindness," he says quietly. He pulls back and looks at Lance, brushing away the fresh tears.</p><p>"And I wish to do this, I,” Lotor clears his throat, “I cannot do much to save your people, and I will regret that for all my days. But if I can help you, and what remains of Altean culture, it may make up for what my father is destroying. I just wish I could do more."</p><p>The last thread of control Lance had on his tears snaps and a deep sob shakes him, burning his throat. Warriors don't cry- that's what he's whispered to himself in his cell in between matches, ignoring the cuts and bruises and the caked blood under his fingernails. He never even thought to cry when he was led to Lotor's quarters the very first time, determined to exact one last revenge even at the cost of his own life.</p><p>He'd swallowed his tears and suppressed the memories of his friends and family, never finding the proper time to mourn them. Scared of what would happen if he did.</p><p>But he does so now. Lance can't stop the memories from flooding his mind as the scent of the juniberries surrounds him. And the pain is so sharp that Lance chokes on his tears, forgets how to breathe. His ribs are on fire as he cries, doubling over with grief.</p><p>The only thing keeping him grounded are Lotor's words, Lotor's kindness. And Lotor's shirt, which he's pretty sure he'd torn at some point. His forehead throbs from where it’s pressed against Lotor's collarbone.</p><p>"...thank you," Lance's voice is thick once he finds his voice. He swallows and clears his throat, feeling so empty, yet at the same time, whole. Relieved.</p><p>Slowly, he loosens his grip on Lotor's shirt and pulls away, fingers still a little cramped and a few rogue tears stinging his eyes, but otherwise unharmed. Lance offers Lotor a small, tentative smile.</p><p>"Thank you, Lotor."</p><p>Lotor nods.</p><p>“Of course, Lance," he whispers. "If you would like, you can stay here by yourself for a varga. Or you can come back with me now, if that’s what you prefer.”</p><p>Lance sniffs, sitting back on his haunches as he considers Lotor's offer. He looks around him.</p><p>If Lotor is telling the truth- which Lance is sure of- then he'll have many opportunities to return and visit this safe haven. But right now, Lance worries he might break down again if he stays much longer. And though it felt good to finally let go, he doesn't want to go through that again anytime soon.</p><p>Besides. He isn't too certain he wants to be alone right now.</p><p>"Let's go back," he decides, slowly rising to his feet and offering Lotor his hand. "I don't know about you, but I'm kinda hungry."</p><p>A smile creases Lotor’s lips as he takes Lance’s hand and stands up.</p><p>"Aren't you always? You are insatiable," he teases, adjusting the flower in Lance's hair before nodding to the door.</p><p>Lance follows Lotor and looks over his shoulder at the juniberry flowers one last time before walking out of the door with a soft smile.</p><p> </p><p>.x.</p><p> </p><p>Lance hears the whispering and can feel the stares as he follows Lotor down the halls, unusually packed with Galra soldiers and generals alike. Here and there Lance spots a fellow Altean, their marks dull and their skin unnaturally pale in their revealing outfits. None of them look up long enough to meet each other's gazes. They're all too ashamed of what was about to happen.</p><p>Lance is no exception.</p><p>They are all going to have to sit at their masters' feet and watch as the last of their kind kill each other for Galra entertainment. And there's nothing any of them can do about it.</p><p>Lance forces himself to be on alert, though. He can't afford the luxury of distancing himself from reality- he needs to be aware of any possible threat, and with every new Galra in Lance’s vision, the threat only grows. He doubts someone will actually try to attack Lotor in the packed arena, but while walking down these halls, Lance wouldn't put it past an assassin to discreetly try to make his hit and run.</p><p>They make it to the arena without casualties and as Lance lowers himself onto the pillow next to Lotor’s seat in the private booth, he swallows thickly and closes his eyes. He hasn't been back to the arena since his last match. To see it from up here, as a spectator, makes him sick to his stomach.</p><p>As if sensing his unease, Lotor brushes his fingers through Lance's hair, smoothing out the thick curls. His hand pauses as the Altean warriors begin to file into the arena, one by one.</p><p>The commentator, whose voice brings Lance back to his own fights, echoes in the arena as he explains the rules. As Lotor had warned him to expect, the Alteans were meant to fight each other to the death. Lance’s eyes widen as the commentator provides new information that quickly makes Lance’s heart sink.</p><p>“The last Altean standing will win their freedom,” the voice rings loud and clear, garnering murmured excitement from the crowd. "Let the games commence!"</p><p>Any hope Lance had secretly fostered that his fellow Alteans might choose to resist and refuse to fight each other quickly fades. Who wouldn't do anything for their freedom? Lance knows he would. Had he been down there in that arena, he wouldn't have thought twice about who he was fighting if it meant that he had a chance at a normal life.</p><p>A shiver runs down his spine at the realization that he could've very easily been down there, right now, if not for Lotor.</p><p>"Hey," he whispers, tugging on the edge of Lotor's cloak to grab his attention. He knows not to address Lotor when they're out in public, but Lance feels safe enough in the private booth to whisper.</p><p>"Do you think the winner will get some GAC to help them start their new life? Or will your father just have them dropped off somewhere with some ID to prove their freedom?"</p><p>A roar rips through the arena as the first Altean falls. Lotor grabs Lance’s chin.</p><p>"I think that if my father is feeling charitable, he will only offer proof of freedom. He is not kind enough to offer more,” he says bluntly and releases Lance’s chin with a grim purse of the lips.</p><p>Nodding, Lance turns away to look at the arena. He's pretty sure he loses the last of his coloring as he observes the gore on the arena floor. He's never seen so much blood in one place, not even during his own fights. He inhales sharply as an Altean cuts off another's head from behind with one great swipe. He looks away immediately. Lance isn't sure how much more of this he can take.</p><p>At least he can find comfort in the knowledge that he doesn't know any of them personally, though it was little comfort indeed.</p><p>They watch silently as the fighting continues. Soon enough there are only two Alteans left standing, both fighters fierce and unrelenting. Both fighting for their freedom. And then one makes a mistake and the sword comes down on his neck with a sickening spray of blood.</p><p>It was over.</p><p>A surge of cheers erupts from the crowd and the commentator’s booming voice echoes his congratulations as Lance stares numbly at the carnage. He watches silently as Zarkon enters the arena to greet the victor, covered in the blood of her comrades. He extends his hand to the victor as if the shake it. The Altean visibly hesitates before taking it.</p><p>“Your freedom,” Zarkon says loudly, "as promised."</p><p>There’s a shuddering cry of pain and when Zarkon pulls away, the Altean falls to the ground; a blade plunged in her stomach.</p><p>Lance cries out- he can't help it. He scrambles to his feet and peers over the balcony, grasping the railing with shaking hands. His eyes widen as the victor’s body spasms on top of a pool of her blood before stilling.</p><p>Lance whips around and looks wildly at Lotor.</p><p>"You've got to do something!" He demands, uncaring of how loud he was being or if he was drawing attention. "Please! We've got to help her!"</p><p>Lotor immediately stands and roughly grabs Lance around the waist, carrying him away from the balcony. Lance struggles, the image of his fallen comrade seared in his mind. He can't take it anymore! He won't sit down and let the last of his people die like this! What kind of soldier was he if he did nothing to stop the carnage? Today it was the remaining warriors, tomorrow it could be the few concubines. And then what? Who will remain?</p><p>"I can't," Lotor hisses. "Sit down,” he orders, voice low and desperate. "Lance, please, now is not the time."</p><p>Rage burns in Lance's chest as he continues to try to pull away from Lotor. In the end of the day, despite all of his kindness, Lotor was still part Galra. There was no way he could possibly understand what Lance and his people have gone through, what they still are being forced to endure.</p><p>"Lance," Lotor says in a quaking voice, "you need to sit. Now."</p><p>Zarkon’s voice carries and penetrates Lance’s enraged haze as he approaches their booth.</p><p>“Having trouble with your prize, Lotor?" He asks loudly. "Perhaps he's better off in arena." He motions to the dead bodies on the ground.</p><p>“After all, Alteans are only good for one thing."</p><p>Lance’s hand slips under his tunic, gripping the blade strapped to his thigh. Zarkon is so close. All he needs to do is jump out of the booth and stab him. He can do it. Lance knows he can.</p><p>But before he can even take a step in Zarkon’s direction, Lance gasps as he's grabbed by the neck and slammed down against the floor. He'd expected perhaps one of Zarkon's many guards to intercept him if given the chance, but Lance hadn't even had the time to pull out his weapon. It's only when the hand around his neck squeezes that his assailant's identity falls into place.</p><p>Lotor.</p><p>"Remember your place, Altean,” Lotor's voice rings in Lance’s ears as he speaks loud enough for the entire arena to hear. “You are nothing here! You are what I give you,” he says callously, “and I can take it all away just as easily."</p><p>Lotor’s words are cruel and cutting, and while there's a part of Lance that understands that it's all for show, the truth behind them rob him of his anger. He flinches as his tunic is torn and flushes despite himself at being so exposed in front of an arena full of Galra. In front of Zarkon. He doesn't move or look up, not even when the rest of the spectators start to leave, the entertainment over for the day.</p><p>Entertainment he’d unwittingly added to.</p><p>He'd seen Lotor put others in their place, be it with sharp words or his sword. Lance knows what Lotor is capable of. He just didn't think he'd ever be on the receiving end- didn't think Lotor would treat him like all the others.</p><p>He'd been wrong.</p><p>“Come on,” Lotor tugs on Lance’s hand, and he allows himself to be pulled up to his feet. He follows Lotor wordlessly out of the arena, keeping his head down as he walks behind him down the halls, detached from the fabric barely hanging off his frame. He feels numb as he enters what used to be a place he’d felt safe in. Now there's only uncertainty.</p><p>Lance doesn't raise his gaze, doesn't speak, doesn't move to cover himself once they're alone inside. He stands in the middle of the room, waiting for Lotor to say something. Anything.</p><p>"Quiznak,” Lotor exhales and covers his face, hands trembling as he leans against the wall. After a dobash of silence, he pushes off the wall and walks over to Lance’s closet, pulling out of one his old shirts. He returns to Lance and slips the unbuttoned shirt over his shoulders.</p><p>Lance stays still, unable to move his limbs to slip his arms into the shirt sleeves or to button it. It only serves as a reminder of how much he owes Lotor, of how little he can provide for himself. He doesn't even have his own clothes- everything, from the sandals on his feet to the jewels in his ears, belong to Lotor.</p><p>Cautiously, Lotor reaches forwards and Lance flinches as Lotor lifts his chin, but doesn’t pull away. He refuses to meet Lotor's eyes, though, even with his head now held high.</p><p>"I... I know there is nothing I can say to make up for what has happened,” Lotor whispers before releasing his chin and allowing his arms to fall limply at his sides.</p><p>“Please, Lance. I do not wish for you to withhold your feelings. Talk to me. I promised to keep you safe. You are safe here.”</p><p>Lotor lowers his gaze, obviously ashamed, and Lance realizes that he isn't angry at Lotor. Not really. He'd put them both in danger with his recklessness, and Lotor's actions were the only reason he's still breathing. Lance should be thanking him.</p><p>But Lance finds himself falling to his knees instead.</p><p>"You were right," he says quietly, his voice a lot steadier than he expected it to be. "I am nothing without you. I wouldn't even be alive right now if you didn't save me from the arena. Saved me from your father."</p><p>He finally looks up and meets Lotor's eyes.</p><p>"But you won't protect me forever. Your interest, your guilt, your curiosity- whatever it is that made you take me in- that's gonna fade one day. And by then you'll realize that I have given you nothing in return. Done nothing to repay you for your kindness."</p><p>Lance raises his hands and reaches for Lotor's belt with grim resolution.</p><p>"Unless I give you a different reason to keep me."</p><p>Lance starts and frowns as his hands are immediately grabbed and yanked away from their intended target.</p><p>Had he misread Lotor's interest? He'd felt his gaze on him more often than not, it was hard not to notice the way he touched him at every opportunity. But he must've been wrong about that, too.</p><p>The day was continually proving to him that he's a lot less perceptive than he thought he was.</p><p>Lotor lowers himself to his knees, joining Lance on the floor, and shakes his head.</p><p>"You have nothing to prove, no debt to pay. You are my eyes and ears, Lance. You are my protector, and I have no others,” he reminds, grip loosening on Lance's wrists before lowering his hands. "My people, my father, have taken everything from you. From Altea. It is I who should repay you,” Lotor whispers.</p><p>He takes a deep breath and continues before Lance can gather his thoughts.</p><p>"Please, do not think that any acts of that kind are needed or expected," he emphasizes with a deep flush."I will always have a reason to keep you, if only to prove to my father that Altea lives on. Though," he adds with a weak smile, "that certainly isn’t my sole reason."</p><p>Lotor lowers his gaze and exhales.</p><p>"Lance, I did what I did to protect you, but it doesn't make it right. Please know that I'm sorry for it, and you needn't offer a repayment of any kind."</p><p>Lance looks away at Lotor's words, shame staining his cheeks.</p><p>Lotor truly believes in what he said, and Lance wishes he can believe it too. But their little display at the arena has taught him that he can't entrust his life to mere words, to passing whims. For that surely is what this is- even if Lotor didn't know it, yet.</p><p>No one can promise 'always'.</p><p>"...I'm going to take a bath," Lance says finally, rising to his feet and walking to the washroom, closing the door firmly behind him.</p><p>Though there’s no blood to wash away, Lance feels dirtier than he’d ever been after a fight in the arena.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello! Thank you for reading this week's chapter. We hope you enjoyed, and would love to hear your thoughts! :)</p><p>Feel free to check out our twitter account at https://twitter.com/hannadory1 💗</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Part 1 (V)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lance carefully folds his shirt on the counter and slips out of the rest of his ruined tunic. Yet another flimsy outfit destined for the trash. Lotor should really demand a refund.</p><p>Sure, he might've been the one to rip the fabric, but it really was the tailor's fault for using such a delicate cloth that could be torn with just a simple pull.</p><p>...then again, maybe that was point.</p><p>Looking at the pile of torn cloth in contempt, Lance unbuckles the knife from his thigh and takes off the rest of his jewels. It takes longer than usual without Lotor's help. Lance can't bring himself to ask for it now, though. Not after... Well.</p><p>Lance doesn't want to think about it.</p><p>The last shreds of whatever remaining pride he'd still had after the events at the arena were completely gone after his refused proposition. He'd been a fool to let all of the other Galra's leering get to his head. Lotor was obviously not interested.</p><p>Lance sighs and leans over the rim of the tub to turn on the faucet when he hears the unmistakable hiss of the main door sliding open. He freezes and holds his breath.</p><p>Had Lotor left their chambers?</p><p>Lance’s eyes widen in alarm as he hears footsteps pass by the washroom door. No. Someone hadn’t left the chambers, they’d entered them. And without Lotor loudly greeting the newcomer to identify them for Lance’s benefit, he can only assume that the footsteps belong to an uninvited guest.</p><p>Lance grabs his discarded knife from the counter and ever so carefully opens the washroom door, careful not to make a sound. He's just barely decent with the shorts he'd taken to wearing under his tunics, but at the moment, modesty is the last thing on Lance's mind. He narrows his eyes as he sees a figure slip into Lotor's study, as silent as a shadow.</p><p>He wastes no time crossing the room and following the intruder, grip tightening around his blade as he sees what surely is an assassin leaning over Lotor's sleeping form, slouched on his desk. Lance catches the gleaming glint of a sword and springs into action, jumping on the assassin from behind and stabbing them in the neck. He pushes down with all his weight as the assassin struggles, shoving them down to the ground as they scream in pain, only to drown a few ticks later in their own blood.</p><p>Lance stays on top of them for a dobash, making sure that the assassin is truly dead, before meticulously extracting his knife. His arms and chest are covered in blood, but that unfortunately isn’t something Lance is unfamiliar with.</p><p>"Lance,” Lotor’s voice breaks the silence, and Lance looks up in surprise. He’d almost forgotten that Lotor was there. He stays absolutely still as the prince smiles and reaches out to gently wipe the splattered blood from his chin.</p><p>“Thank you. Truly,” Lotor meets his eyes and stands up, offering Lance his hand. “Not let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”</p><p>Lance blinks and nods, accepting both Lotor's help and his gratitude. He’s helped to his feet and Lance suppresses the urge to dig his blade again and again into the assassin's body as he looks down at them from above. He may be angry and frustrated with his current situation, but brutalizing the dead is a line Lance isn't keen on crossing.</p><p>He follows Lotor to the washroom and leans forward to turn the faucet on, mimicking his actions from just a few dobashes ago, before he’d realized that someone had decided to try and take Lotor's life.</p><p>Lance doesn't know who the assassin was, or even who’d sent them. An envious Galra general, perhaps? A rebellious faction, intent on murdering Zarkon’s only heir? Or maybe even Zarkon himself, disappointed in Lotor and unsatisfied with his conduct at the arena?</p><p>In the end, it doesn’t really matter. Lance had kept his side of the bargain by protecting Lotor, and thus, protecting himself.</p><p>Lance doesn't think twice of stripping his shorts in Lotor’s presence and climbing into the tub, now that his position as the prince’s bodyguard has been established. Nothing more, nothing less. If this is what he’s expected to do in order to carry his weight, Lance intends on doing his damn best.</p><p>"This changes things, now," Lotor says, leaning his back against the washroom tiles as he side-eyes Lance. “Someone wishes me dead, and this won't be their last attempt.”</p><p>Lotor is quiet for a contemplative moment before clearing his throat.</p><p>"I will look into adding more security to our chambers," he states. “Did the assassin hurt you at all?"</p><p>There's something about Lotor's voice, a light tremor in an otherwise brisk tone, that gives Lance pause and has him turning in the tub to meet Lotor’s gaze.</p><p>He may be the person who’d humiliated him in front of thousands and kept him mainly for his usefulness, but Lotor is also the one who tutored him and gifted him his very own safe haven.</p><p>He probably shouldn't, but Lance can't help but still feel emotionally invested in Lotor. Maybe the prince doesn't feel the attraction Lance does, but it's clear that Lotor cares for him beyond their arrangement.</p><p>And Lance can tell that Lotor is troubled.</p><p>"No, I'm fine," Lance murmurs and reaches out, carefully circling his fingers around Lotor's wrist. "But you don't look too good."</p><p>Lotor looks down at Lance’s hand and raises his free palm to rest on top of it with a slow smile.</p><p>"I will recover," he assures, "if only through the comfort of knowing that I’d made the right decision in trusting you."</p><p>Lance’s expression softens. It was nice to know that he'd earned someone's trust- even if he didn't fully return it. The cycle had been traumatic on many different levels, and despite Lance's logical understanding of Lotor's actions, there's still a part of him that feels betrayed.</p><p>Then again, Lance's trust wasn't exactly necessary for their arrangement. It wasn't like he could leave.</p><p>"Lance, about before," Lotor says softly and bites his lip. He gives Lance’s hand a squeeze. "I see your value in however you wish to give it," he says formally, "but I think it best that we keep things professional.”</p><p>Lance stiffens at Lotor's words and looks away, pulling his hand out of Lotor's grasp as his cheeks flush with embarrassment. Why did Lotor need to bring that up again?</p><p>"Of course," he says coldly and folds his knees to his chest. "It’s for the best."</p><p>Lotor looks at him for a long moment before offering Lance a curt nod.</p><p>"Thank you for your understanding," he says firmly, and Lance silently watches as Lotor pulls away from the tub and walks out of the room.</p><p> </p><p>.x.</p><p> </p><p>Lance shifts under the covers, restless despite the long day he'd spent at Lotor's side. He should be asleep by now, just like Lotor, who was breathing deeply on the other side of the bed. But for some reason Lance just can't seem to fall asleep.</p><p>Maybe it had to do with the latest assassination attempt. There had been five in total since that memorable first one, and Lance can't help but wonder who wants Lotor dead so badly. And why.</p><p>Sure, Lotor can be awkward, oblivious, and an insensitive bastard at times, but those were hardly reasons to want someone dead. Zarkon isn't going anywhere soon. There was no question of succession to prepare and to eliminate rivals for.</p><p>Lance blinks and stills, quickly closing his eyes as he feels something shift in the room. He didn't hear the door open, but he's certain that someone is inside, inching closer to Lotor's side of the bed.</p><p>And if he isn't mistaken, there’s another one currently leaning over him.</p><p>How had he let two intruders get this close?</p><p>Lance doesn't have to think twice about his next move. His hand grasps the blade tucked in a special sleeve in the middle of the mattress and he rolls over, using the element of surprise to attack the assailant poised over Lotor's sleeping form. He gets close enough to cut at her arm, causing her to gasp in pain and drop her weapon.</p><p>But Lance isn't fast enough to evade the attack from behind.</p><p>He expects the stab at his shoulder, though knowing it was coming doesn't soothe the pain any. Lance hisses and falls forward, pretending to lose himself to his pain while he discreetly grabs the gun from under Lotor's pillow. Once his grip is firm, he immediately raises himself to his knees above Lotor and aims the gun at the nearest assassin, only to feel the barrel of another one press against the back of his head.</p><p>Lance isn't nervous, not really, but he'd be a fool not to feel some sort of apprehension at the weapon trained on him from behind. Luckily all the moving around wakes Lotor up and he finally joins the struggle.</p><p>Granted, it was Lance's job to keep him out of it, but he's glad for the distraction Lotor provides with his words. He'll have to apologize after this is all over for letting things get this far.</p><p>"I believe we are at an impasse," Lotor says as he lazily points his own weapon at the assassin behind Lance. "And I wouldn't risk harming my companion. Lance has no qualms over ending your friend's life over there,” he nods in the direction of the hooded assassin Lance’s gun is unwaveringly pointed at.</p><p>"So you've trained your concubine to watch your back?" The assassin's voice from behind Lance is cold and unamused. "Pathetic. A prince who has another fight his battles for him isn't fit to live, much the less rule."</p><p>Perfect. An emotional reaction. Lance lowers his gun ever so slightly, yet keeps it discreetly trained on the other assassin's legs. He makes a point to sniff loudly as he quickly plans his words.</p><p>"I don't want to do this anymore," he states in a small voice. "Please... Don't hurt me. I just want all of this to end already- I promise I won't get in your way!"</p><p>A tick passes and Lance worries his lip, waiting to see how his words are received. The moment he feels the gun drag down his spine and press against the small of his back, he knows the assassins have bought his act.</p><p>"Then get off the prince," the assassin behind him says tersely. "And drop your weapon. We have no quarrel with Alteans, but one wrong move and I won't hesitate to shoot."</p><p>Not an ideal scenario, but no matter. He can still work with that.</p><p>Lance sets his pistol down and slowly climbs off of Lotor's legs, crawling to his side of the bed with the barrel of the assassin's gun guiding him. The moment he sees the assassin's gaze return to Lotor, he lunges forward and grabs her by her neck, pinning her down to the mattress. The gun goes off and Lance is pretty sure a beam grazed his thigh, but he doesn't let up on the pressure he applies to the assassin's windpipe. He finds himself almost missing the solid ground of the arena- a mattress was rather difficult to work with.</p><p>He knows that he's leaving his back wide open, but at this point he trusts Lotor to deal with the second assassin. There's really no other option.</p><p>Lance doesn’t look up as he hears shuffling, knowing better than to look away from the assassin beneath him, but his nerves are somewhat assuaged as he hears Lotor’s voice. Whatever happened with the other assassin, Lotor obviously had the upper hand.</p><p>“Who sent you?" Lotor demands, but aside from the assassin’s grunts of struggle from under Lance, no other sound pierces the silence following the question.</p><p>Well, if Lotor wasn't going to get them to talk, then Lance is going to have to do all the hard work.</p><p>Grunting, he flips the assassin over and maintains his weight on her back and limbs. He does, however, release her throat in the process and allows her to breathe. She gasps and wetly chokes, but aside from making a half-hearted attempt to push him off, she doesn’t cause any more trouble.</p><p>"Well?" Lance grabs a handful of the assassin's hair once she catches her breath and yanks her head back. "Answer his question!"</p><p>"I'd sooner die than betray the cause," the assassin spits and Lance can't help but feel a glimmer of understanding- he'd been in their shoes not too long ago, after all. And yet, he can't let them complete their mission. It was misguided.</p><p>"And you won't be getting any answers from her, either," the assassin adds with an undertone of bitterness that Lance doesn’t understand. Her next words clear things up, though.</p><p>"Your kind went through the trouble of robbing her of her sight and speech. Now you shall reap what you've sown."</p><p>"I don't appear to be reaping anything," Lotor replies offhandedly, "but since I can only get answers from one of you, I fail to see the value in keeping your mute companion along for the ride.”</p><p>He exchanges a quick look with Lance and nods, switching the gears of his gun.</p><p>“My kind, as you say, has committed many terrible and unforgivable acts against the citizens of the universe," Lotor remarks, looking from each assassin to Lance, "but if you believe that my death will sadden the Empire, or will promote your cause, you are sorely mistaken. I will reap nothing, and neither will the Empire, should you have gotten the upper hand."</p><p>Though they haven't known each other for all that long, Lance notices the hurt in Lotor's cold assessment of his worth to the Empire- or lack, thereof. And for the nth time, Lance wonders why Zarkon underestimates his own son so. Surely a man strong and intelligent enough to conquer the universe wouldn't be foolish enough to let something as simple as hate cloud his judgment?</p><p>Whatever may be the situation at the moment, Lance is certain that said hate was going to be Zarkon's fall. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day he'll find himself regretting ignoring his son.</p><p>But for now, Lance focuses on the way the assassin tenses under him at the sound of Lotor’s gun being loaded.</p><p>"This is your last chance. Tell me who sent you."</p><p>"You're as cruel as they say," the assassin spits, resisting one last time before lowering her head in defeat and narrowing her eyes at Lance. "And you're worse, helping the son of the one who destroyed your planet. How can you live with yourself?"</p><p>Lance bristles. He'd said as much to himself on more than one occasion, but he has yet to have another confront him about it. And in the moment of truth, his mouth goes dry.</p><p>He's saved from having to answer when the assassin sighs.</p><p>"We are agents of the Kruxian Resistance. But know this- it doesn't matter what you do to us. The Resistance won't rest until you're dead."</p><p>“Hm,” Lotor hums absently, “they ought to refocus their efforts. I’m curious,” he says and lowers his gun from the kneeling assassin on the floor. “What is it that I’ve done, specifically, that deserves such vehemence from this Resistance?”</p><p>Lotor leans against the bedpost, eyes still trained on the currently unmoving assassin. “What outcome were you hoping for?” He asks, and as he does, he catches Lance’s gaze.</p><p>“Let her go, Lance.”</p><p>The assassin seems as confused as Lance, and for a moment Lance considers disobeying what was a dangerous order. But his hold on the assassin slackens as he meets Lotor's gaze. He was being serious.</p><p>So Lance reluctantly climbs off the assassin and pushes himself off the bed entirely, continuing to ignore the pain in his thigh and shoulder. He watches the assassin warily, ready to pounce should she move too quickly for his liking.</p><p>But all the assassin does is sit up slowly and rub at her neck suspiciously, looking between the two of them before looking around to check on her friend. Once apparently satisfied with her condition, she turns back to look at Lotor and narrows her eyes.</p><p>"You are Zarkon's son. I should think that more than a satisfactory reason to want you dead."</p><p>Lotor nods.</p><p>“That is a fair point,” he concedes. “But while I may be his son, I have a feeling my plans align much more with your own than with my father.”</p><p>Lance watches as Lotor walks over to the kneeling assassin and helps her up to his feet. Though Lotor had him stand down, that doesn’t mean that he’s lowered his guard down. One wrong move, and Lance won’t hesitate to take the assassins down, regardless of Lotor’s wishes.</p><p>Someone has to make sure that they survive the night.</p><p>“I would guess that it would better please your resistance to have an inside man rather than a dead one, no?” Lotor reasons before turning his back to the silent assassin and extending his hand to the one on the bed.</p><p>“I make this offer just once. If you agree to my terms, you will both leave with your lives and with a piece of resistance for your rebellion. Are you willing to listen, or should I have my companion end this as he usually does? You are not the first to make an attempt on my life.”</p><p>"How do I know this isn't a trap?" The assassin hisses, disregarding Lotor's outstretched hand. "How do you expect me to trust that you won't use us to track your way to the Resistance's headquarters?"</p><p>Lotor tilts his head.</p><p>“Well, the fact is that this is your only option,” he replies bluntly. “This or death, and I do so hate to hinder a cause that I could ally with in the future.”</p><p>Lotor retracts his hand and crosses his arms.</p><p>“These are your choices. I remind you that by simply allowing you to live puts me at my father’s crosshairs, and as you well know, he’s hardly the forgiving type.”</p><p>Lance watches as the assassin visibly considers her options and looks to her companion, engaging in what must be some sort of telepathic communication, because there's no way a simple look can convey an entire conversation in such a short amount of time.</p><p>During their silent discussion, Lance allows himself a moment to put himself in their place and wonder how he'd react to this kind of offer. It was different than the one he'd accepted- there was no one at stake aside from himself. These two assassins have an entire organization's weight on their shoulders.</p><p>He tenses as the talking one turns around sharply to face Lotor, but aside from looking at him she doesn't move. Lance looks at her intently as she nods.</p><p>"Fine. We have a deal."</p><p>“Wonderful,” Lotor says blandly and offers the assassin a strained smile. “Now for my assurance, as promised,” he states and confidently crosses the room to his study, disappearing through the door.</p><p>Lance is left alone with the assassins in an uneasy silence as they wait for Lotor to return. Thankfully, they don't have to wait long. Lotor appears in the doorway and approaches the assassin with a tablet in hand.</p><p>“I expect you know how to properly dispose of this when you’ve gained the insight you need?”</p><p>The assassin's eyes widen in curiosity as she regards the document, the promise of intel softening her stance.</p><p>"Yes, of course," she nods and reaches out to accept the document.</p><p>Lotor hands her the tablet and they both cautiously watch as the two assassins leave the room. Lance doesn’t know how they’d sneaked into such a heavily guarded ship, or how they plan to escape, but he finds himself hoping that they don’t get caught.</p><p>If there’s a resistance out there, then that means that there’s still hope to be had.</p><p>Lance is startled out of his reverie as Lotor touches his injured shoulder. He flinches, and Lotor’s expression darkens.</p><p>“Let’s get you into a pod,” he says firmly. “We will discuss tonight’s events once you have healed.”</p><p>Lance wants to argue, to insist that he’ll heal after his curiosity is sated, but he doesn’t even bother opening his mouth to object. Lotor has that stubborn look about him that Lance knows better than to try reasoning with.</p><p>“Alright,” he mumbles and allows Lotor to help him off the bed. He begrudgingly sets his weapons down and wraps a robe around himself as Lotor guides him out of their chambers and into the silent hall.</p><p>He’ll have to wait until after his trip to the healing pod in order to find out what information Lotor had given the Resistance and if he has any other plans for collaboration. But in the meantime, Lance busies himself with looking around and wondering how the assassins had managed to take out so many sentries without raising the alarm. Their remains litter the halls, and Lance almost trips over a metallic arm.</p><p>He wonders if he’ll ever get the opportunity to ask. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>What's a bodyguard AU (among the many other AUs this fic offers) without some assassins? ;) </p><p>Feel free to check out our twitter account at https://twitter.com/hannadory1 💗</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Part 1 (VI)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lance presses his hand to the palm scanner and looks over his shoulder one last time to make sure that he hadn’t been followed. He’d been careful, biding his time to sneak out of Lotor’s chambers in between guard shifts, but there was never knowing with the Galra sentries. They have a habit of popping up at the worst moments.</p><p>Not that it would spell his ruin should he be caught. This isn’t his first time visiting his secret garden while the rest of the ship is fast asleep. Lotor had embedded his permission in Lance’s file, and all the sentry would need to do is look him up on the ship’s server in order to see that Lance isn’t trespassing, or even worse, running away.</p><p>But Lance would really rather avoid that sort of confrontation altogether. The fewer people who knew about the garden and Lance’s liberty to visit it, the better.</p><p>His jaw unclenches as the door slides open and the sweet scent of juniberry greets him as he walks in. Lance closes his eyes and takes a deep breath as the door clicks shut behind him. He’s finally alone.</p><p>Lance isn’t used to being alone. He’s never been the type to particularly crave it, either. Ever since Lance can remember himself, has always been surrounded by friends, squad mates, and family. Even his capture hadn’t given him much alone time- be it in his cell or the arena, there was always someone else with him in the room.</p><p>And Lotor… Well, Lance owes Lotor everything. He owes him his life. But life in Lotor’s chambers didn’t grant him much privacy, either. It was his job to guard Lotor, after all, and as assassins never rest, neither should he.</p><p>But every now and then, when it feels safe and Lotor promises that he can manage on his own, Lance visits his garden and indulges in the solitude. He doesn’t have to pretend to be anyone in the garden. He doesn’t have to please, deceive, or put on a show. He can just… Be.</p><p>Opening his eyes, Lance smiles and walks down the familiar path. The first few times he’d visited the garden on his own, he’d stop by every tree and flower patch, appreciating their familiarity and wishing he could take a more active role in their care.</p><p>It wouldn’t be practical for him to visit the garden every day to water the plants and prune the bushes, though, which is why Lotor had installed the room’s own watering system. Lance looks around and spots the gardener bot at the far end of the room, raking a pile of leaves. Lance grins and offers the bot a wave, even though he knows perfectly well that the bot won’t return or acknowledge it.</p><p>Eventually, Lance comes to a stop next to the small pond he’d come to favor and lowers himself to his knees. He looks down thoughtfully at his reflection and makes a silly face. He can almost hear his niece and nephew’s laughter in the distance.</p><p>Tears fill Lance’s eyes and he allows them to silently streak down his cheeks. He doesn’t try to stop and hold back any of his emotions in the garden, on principle.</p><p>It’s the only place he’s allowed to be himself. To show what he feels. And if that means crying, raging or screaming, then that was what he was going to do.</p><p>There wasn’t going to be any screaming tonight, though. Lance can feel it. His eyes are still red when he climbs back up to his feet, but there’s a gentle smile on his lips as he passes by the juniberries.</p><p>He never leaves the garden without visiting the juniberries.</p><p>Lance spends a few more ticks admiring their vibrant color before acknowledging that it’s time for him to go. When he reaches the sliding door, he doesn’t look over his shoulder one last time.</p><p>He knows the garden will always be there when he comes back.</p><p> </p><p>.x.</p><p> </p><p>Lance fidgets with his anklet as he leans back against Lotor's throne, closely watching the partygoers. A public attack in a room full of the most important officials of this planet would be highly unlikely, but then again, a rebel might think it a statement to off Lotor in front of everyone.</p><p>Lance can't let his guard down, especially when he doesn't have Acxa or Narti to back him up.</p><p>But as the evening continues and no Neburan comes at Lotor waving a gun over his head, Lance allows himself to relax, just a bit. As much as he can in his outfit, anyway. He swears this one is worse than that awful tunic he'd worn the very first time he’d been presented to Zarkon. The tailor had outdone himself- Lance still isn't entirely sure how he can come up with so many variations with so little material.</p><p>His gaze drifts to some of the other seated officials, though none more higher-ranking that Lotor, the guest of honor. Lance feels sorry for the Neburans, of course- having a different race invade and claim your planet for their own, turning everyone into their subordinates, is absolutely horrible. But Lance can't help but feel a little jaded over their suffering.</p><p>Sure, the majority have been enslaved, but at least they got to keep their planet. At least they’re still alive.</p><p>And the Neburans don’t look too unhappy with their predicament, truth be told. Lance watches the officials laughing and drinking, enjoying the party. Those who were content sitting in the sidelines were certainly having a good time with the pretty little things in their laps. Lance's cheeks flush and he tears his gaze away as he spots one official sneak his hand up a young Neburan's skirt.</p><p>Though his gaze is now resolutely fixed on the other side of the room, Lance can't help but dwell on what he'd seen. It was distasteful to be so affectionate in public, and so Lance can't understand the sudden pang of jealousy that had burst in his chest.</p><p>Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he hasn’t been embraced since before the fall of Altea.</p><p>With Lotor refusing to cross the professional line of their agreement, Lance isn't left with many other options. He's still Lotor's concubine, if only in name, and that gets in the way of cultivating new relationships and meeting people. And as for Acxa and Narti, the only other two people he’s in contact with… Well, they’re very happy together.</p><p>It must be nice to be loved.</p><p>Lotor’s hand snaps Lance out of his melancholic brooding as it settled on top of his head. Lance blinks and spots a Galra officer making his way towards them. Lance tilts his head, a silent signal of his understanding, and keeps his eyes trained on the newcomer as Lotor drags his fingers through his hair.</p><p>It was all part of the act.</p><p>The officer doesn’t seem to pose much of a threat as he engages Lotor in a long-winded personal recount of the Nebura campaign, but Lance remains tense. He can feel the officer’s gaze on him more often than not, and Lance gets the distinct feeling that the Galra is trying to undress him with his eyes. Not that it would take too much effort- his outfit leaves little the imagination, either way.</p><p>He startles as the fingers in his hair stop and pull. Lance looks up, uncertain, but Lotor's expression leaves no room for mistaking his intention. Mouth suddenly dry, Lance slowly stands up and settles himself on top of Lotor's knees, not exactly sure where his long legs are supposed to go. They'd never done this before.</p><p>He feels gangly and clumsy, but mostly embarrassed.</p><p>This is what he gets for pining after what he can't have- an uncomfortable mockery of intimacy with someone who'd made it clear that this isn't what he wants. And yet here he is, balancing himself in Lotor's lap and grasping Lotor's shoulder despite himself so as not to fall headfirst into the Galra officer in front of them.</p><p>The officer, on his part, can't seem to tear his eyes away from Lance's thighs. Looking down, Lance's face is flooded with heat as he sees why- the stupid slit in his tunic had ridden up, completely exposing his leg. He itches to pull the fabric back to cover it, but Lance worries that the sudden movement might tip him over.</p><p>And the last thing Lance wants to do is embarrass Lotor as well.</p><p>“Turn to the side and wrap your arms around my shoulders,” Lotor instructs, voice barely over a whisper as he wraps an arm around Lance’s waist.</p><p>Lance’s breath hitches. They haven't been this close since Lotor had shown him the juniberry flowers. He isn't entirely sure why Lotor feels the need for this additional pretence, but Lance follows his directions and shifts, turning to the side and wrapping his arms around Lotor's neck.</p><p>Is there a spy watching them, ready to report back to Zarkon? Lance can't come up with any other reason why they Lotor is going out of his way to touch him. Lotor doesn’t owe the Neburans or the Galran officer a show.</p><p>“Was there anything else you wished to waste my time with?" Lotor looks back up at the officer with a raised brow. He places his hand on Lance's exposed thigh, letting it linger for a tick before drawing the fabric back up.</p><p>The hand on his naked thigh had burned, and Lance can still feel the warmth from Lotor's touch through the thin fabric once he helps him cover his leg. He's grateful, but it doesn't seem to make much of a difference to the officer. In fact, his leering only grows more intense once he's been denied.</p><p>Lance looks away, hoping the officer will lose interest. It's really the only thing he can do.</p><p>"Your Altean seems shy," the officer points out, either incredibly brave or incredibly oblivious to Lotor's mood. "It's almost as if he isn't used to your touch. How long have you had him?"</p><p>Lance can feel Lotor’s shoulders stiffen under his touch.</p><p>"On the contrary," Lotor drawls as he pointedly draws slow circles against Lance’s thigh. "He is simply unused to life outside my chambers,” he elaborates with a lecherous smile.</p><p>Lance tries to distance himself from the hand on his thigh, if not physically then emotionally. This is all an act. There’s no reason to get so worked up over Lotor's hand rubbing soothing circles into his sensitive skin- especially considering that there’s a barrier of fabric between them, flimsy or not.</p><p>But it's a little difficult to ignore the sudden shift and pull against Lotor's chest.</p><p>“He knows that I am the only one allowed to look upon him,” Lotor says firmly and dismisses the officer with a nod. “I suggest you return to the party.”</p><p>Lance is certain that his face is on fire, and in this new position, he decides that he's entitled to ducking his head and hiding his face in the crook of Lotor's neck. It’s for his own benefit, but Lance supposes it helps support the image Lotor has painted of him as well.</p><p>But why? Why is Lotor manhandling him so? There must be a reason Lance isn't aware of. Lotor would never touch him like this otherwise.</p><p>He waits until the Galra officer bows and leaves before raising his head to whisper in Lotor's ear.</p><p>"Is he someone important? Your father's spy?"</p><p>"He was curious, and that is enough of a risk," Lotor answers simply. "Though I imagine any of them could be my father’s spies, or perhaps they report to his witch. One can never be too careful," he adds and settles his hand on Lance’s back.</p><p>“Would you like to go back on the pillow?"</p><p>Lotor is right, one can never be too careful, not where Zarkon and Haggar are concerned. He still finds it a bit odd that Lotor had felt the need to put on such a show for someone who isn't all that important, but then again, that officer had been rather nosy.</p><p>He swallows as he feels Lotor's hand on his back. Truth be told, he wouldn't mind spending a few more ticks this close to Lotor, basking in the illusion of affection and smelling his scent. But he doesn't have any excuse to continue the act. What would Lotor think if he chose to stay in his lap?</p><p>"Yes," Lance hears himself saying and slowly untangles his arms from around Lotor's neck, sliding off his lap and back down onto his pillow. He spends the rest of the party wishing that they could just go back to Lotor's rooms so that he can bury himself in bed.</p><p>The ghost of Lotor's touch had left him cold.</p><p> </p><p>.x.</p><p> </p><p>Lance stares up at the ceiling. He doesn't know how many times he's tried to find even the smallest crack, but the shiny metal is as smooth as always. Sighing, Lance closes his eyes and spreads his arms and legs as far as he can on top of the bed, giving his limbs a good stretch.</p><p>He'd been on his knees next to Lotor's chair all morning while attending a boring meeting, and Lotor had promised proper compensation.</p><p>"When is the food coming?" Lance complains. "I swear it's been over a varga since you ordered it."</p><p>Lotor glances up at him from his tablet and shakes his head with an amused smile.</p><p>"I thought all Altean soldiers were taught patience?" He teases gently as he stands up from his chair and walks over to the bed. "Soon, Lance. I called in a special request for the occasion,” he confides, reaching out.</p><p>"Shouldn’t be long now, just a few more dobashes."</p><p>For a moment, Lance thinks Lotor is going to pat his head. But then the hand shifts its course and pats his shoulder instead. Somewhat disappointed, Lance huffs and turns onto his side to face Lotor.</p><p>He cannot hide his piqued interest, however.</p><p>"A special request?" Lance repeats and raises a brow. "I hope it's worth it. It's never wise to keep an Altean soldier waiting on his meal," he adds with a grin.</p><p>Lotor raises his hand and taps chin with a wistful expression.</p><p>"Yes. I seem to recall your particularly sour mood," he says, returning Lance's smile as they meet each other's gazes. "And indeed, a special request, which you will have to wait to find out,” he says with a sly glint in his eyes.</p><p>Lance groans and falls gracelessly on his stomach, burying his face in the pillows. His tunic is a twisted mess of fabric and his skin feels a lot more exposed than it usually does in the privacy of their chambers, but Lance can't be bothered to tug the tunic down and adjust it. Not when his stomach is so empty.</p><p>He wonders how he'd survived the near-starvation conditions in the arena, when he can hardly wait between meals in Lotor’s chambers. He’s gotten soft.</p><p>"I think I must spoil you if this is your reaction," Lotor muses. "But then, that would mean that you are not deserving of such spoiling, and that's not true in the least.”</p><p>Lance's eyes flash open and his breath hitches as he feels Lotor's knuckles grazing the back of his thighs as adjusts his tunic for him. Heat spreads through his body and Lance quickly sits up, color filling his cheeks at Lotor's compliment.</p><p>"I'm a soldier, I don't need spoiling," Lance mutters and averts his gaze, though he can't help but feel pleased.</p><p>"I did not mention need," Lotor states. “I simply said that you deserve it,” he offers a shrug and one of his most charming smiles. Lance’s heart skips a beat and he think he might do something stupid, but a sharp pinging alarm alerts them that their food has arrived.</p><p>"It will take a few ticks for them to set up the meal- I will call you when it's ready,” Lotor says and stands up.</p><p>Lance watches Lotor walk away and suppresses the urge to reach out and run his fingers through Lotor's hair. It has grown long since Lance had first been tackled to the ground by the prince, and Lance wishes he could braid it the way he used to do for his sisters.</p><p>He also wishes he could ask Lotor how he got himself such beautiful hair when his father is nearly-hairless Emperor Zarkon, but that would mean bringing up Lotor's mother. And Lotor hasn't mentioned her since the tiara incident.</p><p>So Lance resigns himself to sitting in bed and waiting for Lotor's call, entertaining himself by trying to determine which was currently stronger- his hunger, or his curiosity.</p><p>As promised, Lotor returns a few dobashes later and leans against the doorway.</p><p>"Still hungry?”</p><p>Lance snorts and rolls off the bed, taking a moment to straighten out his tunic before meeting Lotor's eyes with a grin.</p><p>"Are you kidding? I swear I could eat a-"</p><p>Lance cuts himself off as he follows his nose and stops in front of the table. The entire surface is covered with dishes and pastries that Lance immediately recognizes. His throat constricts and he swallows thickly as he blinks away the tears that threaten to ruin his makeup.</p><p>He didn't think he'd ever get to see, let alone taste, any of these dishes again.</p><p>"How did you get the kitchen to cook an entire Altean feast?" Lance whispers. He would've turned to Lotor, would've liked to see his smile, but Lance fears that should he take his eyes off the food for even a tick, it'll all disappear.</p><p>He hears Lotor approach him from behind and feels the hand gently placed on the small of his back.</p><p>“After much convincing and quite a bit of GAC, I persuaded the staff to make it," Lotor says with a gentle smile. "Go on," he encourages, giving Lance a light push.</p><p>Excitement finally kicks in, replacing Lance's awe, and his mouth splits into a giddy smile as he rushes over to the table. He already knows what he's going to try first, and a rather sensual moans escapes his lips as he takes a large bite of a drelin.</p><p>"My mother used to make these all the time," Lance gushes and breaks off a half, eagerly handing it to Lotor for him to try. "We'd eat them as snacks between meals, but at some point we'd just eat too many of them and then lose our appetites. And when you can't leave the dinner table before your plate's licked clean, that becomes a bit of a problem," Lance adds with a mischievous grin.</p><p>Lotor accepts the drelin and Lance watches with satisfaction as the prince’s eyes light up as he takes a bite.</p><p>“This is quite good,” he admits. "I... Well, I've only been able to dabble in Altean cuisine. I hope our cooks did it justice,” he says as he sits down at the table.</p><p>Lance chuckles and sits down in his usual seat.</p><p>"Well, no one can beat my mama's cooking," he states matter-of-fact, "but this is really good," he allows and takes a bite of a pastry. "How did you know what to order?"</p><p>Lotor, who had reached out to take his own pastry, withdraws his hand and pushes away from the table.</p><p>"One moment," he excuses himself and heads to his study, returning a few ticks later with a well-worn book.</p><p>"I found this in Altea before-" he clears his throat and offers Lance the book.</p><p>"It lists classic Altean recipes, and the history behind every dish," Lotor explains and worries his lip, meeting Lance's gaze.</p><p>Lance blinks and reaches for the book. His eyes scan the pages, unfamiliar with the undigitized format. He turns the pages carefully as he tries to decipher the writing, but his attention is mostly focused on the illustrations.</p><p>He doesn't need to be able to read it all in order to know how much love had been put into putting together this book, as well as preserving it.</p><p>"Which one is your favorite?" Lance asks quietly and hands the book back to Lotor.</p><p>Lotor is quiet for a moment, mulling the question over. He then opens the book and flips to the middle, stopping at the picture of traditional Altean pie.</p><p>"I suppose this one might be it, for sentimental reasons,” he says with a rueful smile. "It was the first recipe I attempted to make when I acquired it. Suffice it to say, I'm sure your mother would have baked circles around me."</p><p>Lance's expression brightens and he laughs, almost choking on a piece of meat.</p><p>"You bake? I can just imagine it, Prince Lotor in an apron with a mixing bowl," Lance snickers before taking a sip of juice.</p><p>Lotor huffs and shakes his head.</p><p>"I do more than just read, I will have you know,” he says seriously, but a smile creases his lips. "I know that I sometimes," he clears his throat, "throw these Altean things together, without your knowledge." Lotor runs a nervous hand through his hair. "I hope it does not cause you further pain."</p><p>"Pain?" Lance repeats and frowns. He reaches across the table and takes Lotor's hand.</p><p>"Your cherishing my history and culture- our culture," Lance corrects himself, "means the universe to me. Thank you," Lance adds with a smile, squeezing Lotor's hand.</p><p>Lotor's mouth twists in a smile, hesitant and unsure.</p><p>"Okay,” he says softly. "And there is no reason to thank me. This is the least I can do."</p><p>Lance notices Lotor's gaze on their joint hands. Under normal circumstances, he'd pull away with a flush. But there's just something about the fortifying powers of bwen meat that makes his grip only tighten.</p><p>"You didn't have to go all out like this," Lance says firmly. "Allow me to appreciate you. In fact, as it's the anniversary of my liberation from the arena," Lance tilts his head, "if anyone should be giving gifts, it's me."</p><p>Lotor exhales and shakes his head.</p><p>"Let's not get carried away," he says and squeezes Lance's hand before slowly releasing it and returning it to his lap.</p><p>"Tell me... Is there anything you suggest I try?" He asks, tilting his head.</p><p>Lance doesn't miss the way Lotor's face colors, and he's forced to bite back a smirk. The prince was rather cute when he was flustered.</p><p>"Well, you have to try the ananeg," Lance says seriously and spears a piece on his fork. He raises his hand and guides the fork to Lotor's mouth.</p><p>Lotor looks hesitant for a moment before he accepts the morsel with a soft hum.</p><p>"It's good," he says with his mouth half full. He covers his mouth with his hand and audibly swallows.</p><p>Lance grins and takes his own bite of the doughy dish. It's just as he remembers.</p><p>"Y'know," Lance says after swallowing his mouthful, "had things been different, you probably would've had this as an appetizer at your wedding reception," Lance points to a traditional fruit pastry.</p><p>"This was Princess Allura's favorite, or so I've been told."</p><p>Lotor chokes and takes a sip of water before clearing his throat and meeting Lance’s gaze.</p><p>“My wedding reception? Whatever do you mean by that?"</p><p>Lance raises a brow.</p><p>"Everybody expected you and the princess to tie the knot. To secure the Galran-Altean alliance," Lance explains and tilts his head. "I thought that was common knowledge. Did your father have other plans for you?"</p><p>Lotor leans back in his chair.</p><p>“I see. Well, this may surprise you, but I never had the good fortune of meeting the princess,” he remarks, folding his hands together in his lap. "I imagine that even if that had been my father’s plan for a time, he would not have let me be privy to such information."</p><p>He exhales, averting his gaze before slowly meeting Lance’s eyes again.</p><p>"I wonder how your people came to this conclusion,” he says aloud, brushing some crumbs from the edge of the plate.</p><p>Lance shrugs.</p><p>"I mean, it was scrapped pretty early on, because of the war and all," Lance pauses to take a sip from his glass. "But it made the most sense. I never got too close to Princess Allura, but for what it's worth, I think you two would've gotten on," Lance adds with a wistful smile.</p><p>"She was absolutely gorgeous. If anything, the two of you have pretty hair in common," Lance teases with a grin.</p><p>Lotor lets out a laugh and runs a hand through his white locks.</p><p>"I'm sure we would have gotten on just fine, though I doubt as well and you and I," he stipulates. “And, I rather admire your hair," he adds softly.</p><p>Lance snorts and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear.</p><p>"What, this? It's alright," he admits begrudgingly, "but nothing like yours. A warrior has to keep his hair short," Lance recites.</p><p>Lotor's smile broadens.</p><p>“Then it's a good thing I have you as my warrior, then, isn't it?" He prompts, gently nudging his foot against Lance's before pulling it back.</p><p>Lance can't help but return the smile.</p><p>"Yeah, a good thing indeed," he says slowly and meets the prince's eyes for a long moment before tearing his gaze away and exclaiming over a vegetable dish he'd never particularly cared for.</p><p>Anything to ease the tension in the room.</p><p>Maybe someday, he'll be brave enough to act on it.</p><p> </p><p>.x.</p><p> </p><p>Lance recalls the Neburan party in which he'd been ordered to sit in Lotor's lap for the first time.</p><p>He'd been awkward then, touch starved and hyper aware of every little touch. Enough time has passed for Lotor's lap to become his permanent seat at official functions. They never spoke about it, but the pillow provided for him at the foot of Lotor's seat would go unused more often than not.</p><p>He shifts now in Lotor's lap, accepting the bite Lotor offers him, and returns to resting his cheek against Lotor's collarbone. Formal dinners are unfortunately a recurring event that Lance used to dread, but he's gotten used to the stares over time. Even Zarkon's piercing gaze isn’t as threatening as it had been during the first deca-phoeb of his arrangement with Lotor, though Lance still makes a point never to meet the emperor’s eyes.</p><p>He hasn’t forgotten what had happened to the last Altean slave who’d accidentally looked the wrong way at Zarkon. His throat had been slit in this very room, leaving Lance as the last Altean concubine on the ship.</p><p>"Today marks a glorious day for the Galra Empire," Zarkon’s voice fills the room and cuts off all conversation. Lotor’s grip on Lance’s waist tightens.</p><p>“It has been five deca-phoebs since Altea paid for their treachery," Zarkon announces as he lifts his glass. "In honor of this quintant, I have approved the expansion of Haggar’s experiments. There is much to investigate, and the more we know about quintessence, the more our empire will continue to flourish.”</p><p>Polite applause fills the room and Zarkon raises his hand for silence.</p><p>“We have recently made an interesting discovery on this ship, one that will allow us the opportunity to learn about a rare form of quintessence that we previously believed to be lost.”</p><p>Lance can’t help but feel curious. And yet, when he feels Zarkon’s gaze on him and Lotor, a heavy sense of foreboding fills his lungs, making it difficult to breathe.</p><p>"We must use every resource we have to advance. There is no room on this ship for sentimental frivolity.” </p><p>Lance prides himself on his self control. After the disastrous consequences of his last outburst in the arena, he's learned the hard way that any expression of his true feelings outside Lotor's chambers would only lead to difficulties and problems. The offhand comments, the stares and the plain cruelty of the Galra around him weren’t worth risking his or Lotor's life over. Not when they've both worked so hard to make this work.</p><p>There hasn't been an outburst since, but as always with Zarkon, he was difficult to ignore. His words and actions were never kind, and he was always trying to provoke either Lance or Lotor into a confrontation whenever they were forced to be in his presence.</p><p>For the first time in a deca-phoebs, Lance feels his restraint fraying.</p><p>His breath catches and the blood drains from his face. His grip on Lotor tightens and he trembles, using every bit of his control to keep himself from pushing out of Lotor's embrace and rushing out of the hall.</p><p>He hopes Zarkon isn’t talking about what he thinks he is.</p><p>He hopes Lotor doesn't ease his grip.</p><p>"I'm certain that Haggar will further the Empire greatly," Lotor’s voice rings in Lance’s ears as he replies to his father with practiced ease. "I look forward to seeing her advancements."</p><p>Dinner continues to drag on for another varga, and Lance has to do his best to sit still. He knows better than to bolt, but he's restless and anxious. He turns away from Lotor's attempts to feed him, rebelling in his own little way, protesting this impossible situation he’s being forced to remain complacent in.</p><p>Besides, he doesn't have the stomach for food right now. Not when he's so worried.</p><p>As the plates are collected, Lotor leans down to whisper softly in his ear.</p><p>“We will walk by the garden on our way back to our chambers. If something has happened to it, you must not react until it is safe. Am I understood?"</p><p>Lance nods wordlessly and slides off Lotor’s lap. As he follows him out of the hall, Lance wishes they could go faster, but he knows that there's still an act to maintain. They cannot appear agitated or affected by Zarkon's words.</p><p>The suffocating scent of smoke proceeds the room; Lance can smell it before they even turn the corner. He doesn't need to go inside to know that it has all been lost. The door, as they pass it, has been thrown wide open, and a quick glance reveals nothing more than ash.</p><p>No juniberry could've survived that fire.</p><p>Lance doesn't bolt or cry out. He does linger for a tick at the melted door, though, taking in the damage, before resuming his pace behind Lotor. It's only when they're finally behind closed doors that he allows himself to lash out.</p><p>...only, he doesn't. There is anger, so much anger inside him. But there's no violence in his mourning.</p><p>Hot, fat tears streak down his cheeks, ruining his makeup, but otherwise Lance remains silent. He climbs onto his side of the bed and curls into a ball, pressing his forehead hard against his folded knees as the tears keep coming.</p><p>Zarkon had sent a clear a message as any: Altea is gone. Every trace of his planet has been destroyed, and now his only sanctuary has been reduced to ash. There is no safe haven for an Altean in Zarkon's empire.</p><p>No Altean will ever have a home again.</p><p>Lance doesn't react as Lotor hugs him from behind. He's afraid that if he does, he'll break. And he doesn't want to give Zarkon that satisfaction, even if he can't see him. He doesn't want that bastard to get to him as much as he thought he did when he'd ordered the garden depleted and burned.</p><p>But Zarkon <em>has</em> gotten to him. He'd robbed Lance of the only source of comfort he'd had since Lotor gifted the room to him. He feels stripped bare, naked in the worst way, far more exposed than he'd ever been in his outfits. There's an empty hole in his chest where his heart used to be, and Lance doesn't know if he'll ever be able to fill it.</p><p>What was the point? Lance doesn't have anything left. He'd made himself a promise to keep going on for the sake of keeping Altea alive, if only in his presence and memory. But now, as the rest of the Alteans fall one by one, and the last physical bit of Altea has been destroyed, is there a reason to keep trying?</p><p>Maybe this is what was meant to be. Maybe Zarkon is right. Maybe dying is all Alteans are good for.</p><p>"I know my apologies will mean little in the face of this tragedy,” Lotor breaks the silence in a low voice, "but truly, I am sorry. I didn’t think he would ever find out about the garden.”</p><p>He pauses and cups the back of Lance's neck, moving his hand in slow, reassuring circles.</p><p>"I will find a way to bring it all back, “ he promises. "I will find a sanctuary that even my father cannot reach."</p><p>"Don't you get it?" Lance finally finds his voice, thick with tears. He tightens his grip on his legs.</p><p>"It's over, Lotor. There's nothing left. No one left, not really. Altea is gone- for good."</p><p>Lotor pulls back.</p><p>"No. That is simply not true,” he says, gently lifting and cradling Lance's chin in his palm. He pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket and dabs away at Lance's tears. "I will not allow my father have the final word,” he adds, brushing his thumb over Lance's lower lip. "Altea lives in us. In your blood.”</p><p>Lance's eyes widen. His heart is a force to be reckoned with, beating loud and fierce in his chest, as if echoing Lotor's words. Swearing to continue to keep Lance alive, Altea alive, with every beat.</p><p>"You are a warrior, Lance, and though the battlefield has changed, you are still a soldier. You are still that beautiful, powerful fighter that I knew I had to save,” Lotor says fiercely, "and I refuse to see you yield to my father."</p><p>Lotor exhales and lowers his hand to take Lance's, lifting it from its perch on his knees.</p><p>"We are more than the tragedy of our people,” he whispers. “I can't lose you. I- I can't lose the only connection I have to Altea, so I <em>need </em>you not to give up,” Lotor insists.</p><p>"I lo-“ Lotor cuts himself off, cheeks flushing as he squeezes Lance’s hand. "We will rebuild what we lost. I promise."</p><p>Lance’s tears continue to fall, but they slow as Lance blinks rapidly, focusing on the way Lotor takes his hand and says things that he's never said before. Lance drinks up every word, his own face mirroring Lotor's flush. He doesn’t know how Lotor can possibly keep his promise, but Lance’s mind reels from the two syllables that didn't quite make it into words.</p><p>He doesn’t know what to say. Not when everything seems to narrow down to his pulse, ringing in his ears, and the places where he and Lotor meet. He's had deca-pheobs to recover from Lotor's rejection. Maybe he finally sees in Lance what Lance saw in him all that time ago.</p><p>That thought is all it takes for Lance to slip his hand from Lotor’s grasp and reach up, wrap his arms around Lotor's neck, and close his eyes and he pulls him down for a kiss.</p><p>Lotor's lips are as soft as he always imagined them to be.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey, guys! We apologize for the long wait, but we're back with a new chapter \o/ The story isn't over yet, though, so stay tuned! ;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Part 1 (VII)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lotor grunts as Lance throws his arms around him and presses their lips together. He follows Lotor as he leans back against the bed and makes a low sound in the back of his throat as Lotor’s arms curl around his waist.</p><p>They’ve kissed before, just a brush of lips to appease curious Galra, but none of those kisses had been so passionate, so private. Soft sounds leave both their mouths as the kiss deepens.</p><p>Slowly, Lotor pulls back and looks into Lance's eyes, bringing his hand up to cup Lance's cheek.</p><p>Lance has been held in Lotor’s arms for a very long time, in many different ways, but nothing feels as intimate and real as it does now. And for the first time, Lance can finally touch as well. Lotor has had his hands all over him, for a different reason every time, but now it’s Lance's turn to explore. To hold.</p><p>A crease forms in Lotor’s brow and he opens and closes his mouth a number of times before carefully choosing his words.</p><p>"Lance, you are what matters,” he says reverently. "Just you."</p><p>Tears fill Lance's eyes again- only this time, they're tears of joy. He'd gone from empty to brimming in a matter of doboshes and his chest feels like it's going to explode with happiness.</p><p>He'd just lost- they had just lost- so much. But at the same time, they have both gained something wonderful.</p><p>Lance reaches out and runs his fingers through Lotor's hair. He sniffs and wipes away his tears with the back of his free hand.</p><p>"You're my world," Lance admits, still a little shy, but mainly relieved at having the chance to confess after all this time. "You've given me a life. A purpose. A home. You mean more to me than anything, Lotor."</p><p>Lotor’s eyes glisten and he clears his throat as he sits up and pulls Lance into his lap.</p><p>“I am glad,” he says simply. Lance can hear the choked emotion behind the words, and he swallows thickly as he wraps his arms around Lotor’s neck to support himself. Unlike the many previous instances he'd settled himself in Lotor’s lap, however, he wraps his legs around Lotor's waist as well, pressing as close as physically possible. As if being this close now will make up for a hundred decapheobs of distanced intimacy.</p><p>Hopefully they'll have a hundred more to make up for all that lost time.</p><p>Lotor brushes his fingers through Lance's hair and tucks it behind his ear before leaning in for another kiss. Lance tilts his head and leans forward, deepening it. He can already tell that he'll never tire of Lotor's kisses, never have enough of them.</p><p>"I promise you, I will continue to fight for you and our people's culture,” Lotor swears as they pull away for air. He meets Lance’s eyes and leans down to mouth in Altean "<em>my dearest love</em>” against Lance's lips.</p><p>Lance never thought he'd hear those words from Lotor, much the less in his native tongue.</p><p>"<em>I love you</em>," Lance says fiercely, slipping into Altean as well. "And we'll fight together. I'll never let anything happen to you."</p><p>It's difficult to unwind his limbs from around Lotor's frame, but Lance forces himself to pull away and crawl off the bed. He falls to his knee and bows his head in Lotor's direction once he's on firm ground.</p><p>"I've promised to protect you before, but you now have my word as an Altean warrior of the royal guard. I swear myself to you... My Prince."</p><p>Silence hangs heavily between them and Lance thinks he might have spoken out of turn. He considers looking up to gauge Lotor’s expression, but before he can raise his eyes, Lotor’s hands are on his head. Lance closes his eyes and curls his hands into fists at his sides as Lotor lowers himself to his knees in front of him and carefully tilts his chin up to meet Lotor’s eyes.</p><p>"And I swear to uphold the Altean legacy, to keep it alive for the both of us,” Lotor says solemnly before adding, "my love,” with a playful smile.</p><p>Lance blinks as Lotor abruptly releases his chin and stands up, turning to walk to his study with clear, unknown purpose. Lance remains on his knees, confused, and watches as Lotor returns and kneels in front of him again.</p><p>Only this time, he extends his hand and reveals a single seed in his palm.</p><p>“<em>F</em><em>or our future</em>."</p><p>Lance’s eyes widen and he accepts the seed, closing his palm carefully around it and slowly climbs to his feet. He walks over to Lotor's dresser and opens the small jewelry box he'd been given to keep a number of his favorite jewels in. Gently, Lance places the seed in an empty compartment originally meant to store precious stones that fell from their piece.</p><p>This juniberry seed was far more precious than any jewel in his box.</p><p>"<em>For our future</em>," Lance repeats quietly, warmth filling his chest. He hasn't felt so hopeful in a very, very long time. He turns and walks back to Lotor, pulling him up to his feet and wrapping his arms around Lotor's middle, pressing close for a tight hug.</p><p>"Thank you," he whispers, words muffled against Lotor's neck.</p><p>Lotor graciously accepts the hug and presses a kiss to the top of Lance's head.</p><p>"It is I who should thank you," he whispers. "I would not have the endurance to do all of this without you."</p><p>"I'll be there every step of the way," Lance promises. Their odds of somehow recreating something that has been completely annihilated were low at best, but Lance really wants to believe that they can do it. Together.</p><p>It won't happen this quintant, and it certainly won’t happen the next, but tucked under Lotor's chin, Lance knows their future is off to a good start.</p><p>"Come, let's get you out of this dreadful attire,” Lotor eventually says, slowly pulling back and motioning to Lance's tunic.</p><p>Lance wets his lips and proceeds to carefully tug the first of many bracelets off his wrist. He had to dress more elaborately than usual for that awful dinner with Zarkon, and in his experience, undressing will most likely be quite the hassle.</p><p>But with Lotor helping him for the first time in far too long, Lance doesn't care.</p><p>Lotor's touch is gentle, as it had been before, but his hands linger as they brush against his skin. Lance leans back against the bed as Lotor continues to unclasp the many jewels from his limbs. It's only when Lotor delves his hand beneath the fabric of his tunic to unbuckle the chain on Lance's thigh, that Lance is spurred into action.</p><p>His hand immediately reaches out to ghost over Lotor's palm and press down, encouraging Lotor to grasp his thigh. His other hand rises to Lotor's face and cups his cheek as he leans up for a kiss.</p><p>Lotor moans against his lips and unknowingly spurs Lance to hook his thigh over Lotor's hip and wraps his arm around Lotor's neck, pulling him down slowly as he lowers himself onto the bed.</p><p>Lotor’s palms burn against his skin.</p><p>"Lotor," Lance breathes as he breaks the kiss, opting to meet Lotor's gaze instead with half-lidded eyes. "Please."</p><p>Lotor bites his lip and lowers a hand to tuck some stray locks behind Lance’s ear.</p><p>“Lance, do you think this the best-” he pauses and takes a deep breath. “I wish us to not rush into things,” he says softly.</p><p>Lance groans and props himself up onto his forearms. For someone who can be so rash at times, so willing to take risks even with his own life at stake, Lotor was proving to be irritatingly cautious when it came to him.</p><p>"Lotor," Lance starts, tilting his head and pursing his lips in an unamused frown. "If five decapheobs is your idea of 'rushing things', then I really don't wanna know what you consider to be 'taking it slow'."</p><p>Lotor has the decency to look away with a sheepish smile.</p><p>Lance’s gaze softens as he raises a hand to brush his knuckles over Lotor's cheek affectionately.</p><p>"I want you, Lotor. I've wanted you for a very long time. And if you think-"</p><p>Lance's eyes widen with a sudden, horrible realization and he cuts himself off. He quickly lowers his hand and meets Lotor's gaze uncertainly.</p><p>"Do you- I mean, well, I assumed, but you didn't say, and you've been saying no from the very beginning- ugh," Lance falls back and hides his embarrassed flush with his hands. "I'm sorry. I just thought you wanted me too."</p><p>Lotor immediately leans over Lance and places a kiss on his lips.</p><p>“Forgive me for my hesitance,” he apologizes. “It is not meant as a detriment against you. I adore you, Lance.”</p><p>Lotor sighs, pulling back to sit on the edge of the bed.</p><p>“You’ll have to forgive my novice nature in all of this.”</p><p>Lance looks away as Lotor takes his hand. The apologetic tone makes his heart sink. Quiznak, he's never going to live this down. Lotor is going to tell him that he's having second thoughts, or worse, that this was all just one big mistake. Maybe he is taking things too fast. Lotor is being so infuriatingly kind about it, too.</p><p>Lance briefly wonders if a brief visit to the arena won't solve all his problems.</p><p>“The truth of the matter is, Lance, I want you very much,” Lotor continues as he rubs his thumb over Lance’s knuckles. “And that comes with its share of... Complexities.”</p><p>He takes a deep breath and reaches out with his free hand to cup Lance’s chin and prompt him to meet his gaze.</p><p>“Please, don’t think my hesitance is disinterest. I want you, but I...”</p><p>Lotor looks away with a faint flush.</p><p>“The last time we engaged like this, I was your superior. I never want you to think you are obligated to me.”</p><p>Lance takes a deep breath and steels himself. He really doesn’t want to think about the arena, Zarkon’s cruelty and what Lotor had to do to save them both. He especially doesn’t want to think about what he’d done in the aftermath, in the privacy of their rooms, but Lance knows he needs to explain himself if he wants things to change.</p><p>"I wasn't thinking clearly that night," Lance says quietly, squeezing Lotor's hand between them. "And I know now that I put you in an impossible situation. I apologize," he adds, bringing Lotor's knuckles to his lips and kissing them slowly, one by one.</p><p>"But this isn't like last time. You might be my prince, but I offer myself to you because I want <em>you</em>, not out of some sense of obligation."</p><p>He guides Lotor's hand to press against his chest, just above his heart.</p><p>"If you'd rather we wait, though... Then we will. But please don't make me wait another five decapheobs, Lotor."</p><p>Lotor slowly nods and raises his hand to cup Lance’s cheek.</p><p>"That changes things," he admits with a shy smile. “And no, my love, I couldn't bear to wait that long, either." Lotor slips his hand around Lance and pulls him to his chest, their lips only a breath apart.</p><p>"I intend to learn every bit of you. Every part of you. I want to worship you," Lotor whispers and slips his hand under Lance's tunic, his hand resting comfortably on the swell of Lance’s bottom.</p><p>Excitement rushes through Lance's veins like a heady shot of nunvil as Lotor pulls him close. He can feel every inch of Lotor's ceremonial armor pressed flush against him and his face heats up at Lotor's whispered words. The hand squeezing him underneath the fabric makes Lance gasp.</p><p>"I just had to know,” Lotor says quietly. “I can't have us be anything less than equal partners in this.”</p><p>"There's nothing equal about our state of dress," Lance grumbles, trying to hide his shyness. He'd had some major crushes in his distant past, but none ever led to more than a few stolen kisses in the dark. There was little to no privacy in the barracks, and his training left very little time for romance. Lotor's performative groping in public functions was the most action Lance has ever experienced with another.</p><p>And now that said groping is real... Well. Lance is eager, but just a bit lost. He hopes Lotor knows what he's doing.</p><p>Reaching up, Lance presses a kiss to Lotor's lips before shifting his weight, pushing Lotor down onto the bed and straddling his hips. He might not have a lot of experience with touching, but Lance has learned quite a bit about undressing over the past few decapheobs.</p><p>After watching Lotor do it himself for so long, Lance only struggles for a tick before successfully unclasping the intricate mechanisms that held Lotor's chestplate in place. He smoothes his hands over the soft fabric that remains once he pulls the armor off Lotor's chest.</p><p>"It's so heavy," he murmurs, deftly dipping his hands beneath Lotor's shirt and splaying his fingers over his warm skin. "Maybe you should try wearing one of my tunics for a change. Give your back a break."</p><p>"I don't think a tunic would suit me half as much as it does you,” Lotor teases, "though I must say, those tunics leave much to be desired."</p><p>"I wouldn't be so sure about that. You'd look good in anything," Lance states as he continues to rid Lotor of his armor. "But you're right, this tunic has got to go."</p><p>Lotor cocks an eyebrow at Lance's declaration, then flips them with a smirk once the last piece of his armor falls to the floor.</p><p>Lotor pins Lance down just like Lance always wanted him to. He makes a needy sound and tilts his head back as Lotor kisses down his neck, his own hands wrapping around Lotor's shoulders and gripping his shirt.</p><p>Lance learned long ago that size meant very little in a fight as long as you know what you’re doing, but he'd be lying if he said he didn’t feel a small thrill at being trapped by someone of Lotor's height and build. Especially when said assailant wasn’t trying to kill him.</p><p>"You’re absolutely correct," Lotor hums and brushes his fingers over Lance's cheek. "Let me do the honors.”</p><p>Lance worries his lip as Lotor peels off his tunic, leaving him only in the matching shorts he's always insisted on wearing. No matter how translucent the fabric of his outfit, Lance took comfort in the knowledge that at least the gawkers will never truly have a full view of his body. His privacy might have been violated, but not completely erased.</p><p>"I swear, my father must have access to your tailor. Which each request, he seems to pride himself in your scantily clad body,” Lotor sighs and kisses across Lance's chest, pausing to rest his cheek against Lance's beating heart.</p><p>The thought of Zarkon taking any kind of joy in his state of dress sends a shiver of revulsion down his spine.</p><p>"Lotor, please don't ever again mention your father while we're in bed," Lance huffs, but doesn't dwell on the mental image. Instead, he focuses on Lotor's gentle kisses and the drag of his hair against his skin.</p><p>"Y'know,” Lance drawls, raising a hand to play with the long silver strands, "I've always wondered if the carpet matches the drapes."</p><p>Lotor blinks and lets out a deep laugh.</p><p>“I think that can be arranged,” he promises with a sly smile.</p><p>Lance grins as Lotor sits back and pulls him into his lap, and he automatically wraps his arms around Lotor's neck as he feels Lotor hold him as well. They kiss long and deep, more tongue than lips, and Lance lets a lone groan escape as he rolls his hips.</p><p>He's always wanted to do that, to try and see what it would feel like in Lotor's lap. How would Lotor respond. It looks like he was going to realize many dreams tonight.</p><p>“I know things,” Lotor says in a slightly breathless voice as they pull away, “have not been orchestrated in our favor. But if this is what it took to have you in my arms,” Lotor hesitates, “to some extent, it will have been worth it. <em>You</em> make the struggle worth it.”</p><p>Despite the reverence and clear adoration in Lotor’s admission, his words give Lance pause.</p><p>For all of Lotor's mixed blood and love for Altea and her declining culture, he'd never... He'd never really been there. He hadn't witnessed his planet being destroyed, his people slaughtered and his family lost. He hadn't been taken prisoner by an enemy and forced to fight to the death for their entertainment. He didn't need to pose every day as a concubine as a continued insult to his people.</p><p>None of it was Lotor's fault, and Lance knows just how much the fall of Altea has hurt his prince. And he knows Lotor's words are meant as a compliment to him, a way to express his love which Lance treasures above all else.</p><p>But to say that their love was worth the destruction of Altea, even just a part of it...</p><p>Guilt and shame floods Lance's system as he slowly unwinds his arms from around Lotor's neck.</p><p>He loves Lotor. He wants to be with him in every way possible. But he can't do this when the memory of his fallen friends, as fresh in his mind as the day it all happened, haunts him.</p><p>What would they think if they saw him now, writhing in the Galra Prince's lap? What would they say?</p><p>"I-I'm sorry," he whispers and cups Lotor's cheek. "I love you. So much. But I can't tonight. I thought I was ready, but not… Not yet."</p><p>A small furrow forms in Lotor’s brow, but he doesn’t press it. He accepts the rejection with a gentle smile and nods.</p><p>“Of course, my darling,” he leans into Lance’s cupped hand. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”</p><p>He kisses the tip of Lance’s nose.</p><p>“Would you like to rest?” He asks, motioning to the pillows.</p><p>Lance nods.</p><p>"Thank you. And yeah, I could use some sleep."</p><p>After pressing a quick kiss to Lotor's lips, Lance climbs off his lap and crawls over to the pillows, settling on top of them with a small, content sigh. When he doesn't immediately feel the dip in the mattress signaling Lotor's movement, he props himself up and tilts his head at Lotor's immobile form, still sitting upright on the far end of the bed.</p><p>"...will you join me?"</p><p>Though he isn't ready for the physical intimacy he's been craving, one of Lance's many other fantasies has always been to curl up in Lotor's arms and fall asleep with his warmth surrounding him, keeping him safe.</p><p>After a moment of hesitation, Lotor nods and crawls towards him, cautiously sliding his arms around Lance's waist and kissing the back of his neck in a silent apology.</p><p>Lance closes his eyes with a smile.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And thus ends the first part of our story. Stay tuned for part 2! ;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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